


Til Death Do Us Part

by AndiMackmeetsHeathers



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Arguing, Arranged Marriage, Attempt at Humor, Chaos, Chaotic Good, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern Royalty, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Romantic Fluff, Royalty, Russia, Same-Sex Marriage, Self-Doubt, True Love, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiMackmeetsHeathers/pseuds/AndiMackmeetsHeathers
Summary: At just turned 28 years old, wealthy Russian Prince, Viktor Nikiforov, is a gay bachelor, looking for a respectable husband to spend the rest of his life with. Following the death of his grandfather, King Nikolai, he is first-in-line for the throne, so his quest becomes more significant than ever. However, it seems like nobody can thaw his heart of ice-or can they?A royalty and arranged marriage AU, updated three to four times a week.
Relationships: Anya/Georgi Popovich, Jean-Jacques Leroy/Isabella Yang, Katsuki Hiroko/Katsuki Toshiya, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Leo de la Iglesia/Ji Guang-Hong, Lilia Baranovskaya/Yakov Feltsman, Mila Babicheva/Michele Crispino, Nikolai Plisetsky/Original Female Character(s), Nishigori Takeshi/Nishigori Yuuko, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti, Sara Crispino/Emil Nekola
Comments: 42
Kudos: 89





	1. Suitors

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning-there will be mentions of death, swearing and self-deprecation in this fanfiction, read at your own risk. 
> 
> Some things about this AU that are worth noting:
> 
> • There are forms of monarchy in different countries where there are not monarchies in reality.  
> • Most of the characters are from high-class or wealthy families, or are otherwise servants-not like in the anime in the slightest.  
> • The only characters who ice skate are Viktor and Yuuri, and they are not professionals by any means.  
> • Homosexuality is globally accepted, so there are no issues with any of the princes being gay, bisexual or pansexual.  
> • Unlike in the anime, Nikolai is dead.  
> • Mila, Georgi, Yakov, Lilia, Yuri and Viktor are all related-they are part of the Russian Nikiforov family-but Georgi and Mila were both adopted fairly young (from different families to each other).  
> • It is heavy on romance but also has an element of tragedy to it, and it looks into classism and the class system in place in this fictional society. All of the royals are Nikiforovs, even though the character tags say otherwise.  
> • All the characters are bilingual and speak in both their native language and English. In the Russian court, mostly English is used due to being a universal language, but Russian phrases are thrown around here and there. They're also all slightly aged up, by nearly a year.  
> • Modern language and terminologies are being used despite the setting, and it is a modern society-in a whole other world. Please don't try to compare it to real-life, because it is not supposed to be true to reality. Thanks! 
> 
> That aside, there's not much more I can say. I really hope you enjoy this and will come along for the ride! Enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor meets with Lilia and Yakov about his future husband, realising that perhaps he has a big decision to make now that he is a grown man of twenty-eight.

“No.”

“But, your royal highness-"

Viktor Nikiforov rolled his eyes and held up a hand decisively. Asserting himself was the best way to ensure that his thoughts and feelings on the issue mattered.

“I said, my answer is no.” No sooner than those words had left his mouth, Viktor’s uncle Yakov strode into the room, his usual expression of exasperation etched into the lines on his face; constant stress was a natural part of being the King of Russia, but that still didn’t make it any easier for him.

“Vitya, just what the hell do you think you’re playing at? You’re twenty-eight years old, for goodness’ sake. What are you doing with your life? You need a wealthy husband to keep you company, and yet you’re rejecting every possible offer on the table. “

Viktor scoffed, accustomed to Yakov’s rants by now.

“Well, let’s have a look at the list, shall we? Otabek Altin- “

Yakov raised an eyebrow at him. “The Hero of Kazakhstan,” he pointed out. “Wouldn’t he make you look good?”

Was he serious? How could he not see how unsuitable this man was for him? “Not really, no. For one,” he began, looking at the door when he noticed his younger brother slip in the room, “Altin is far too young for me. You know this. Secondly, I think he has his eye on…” he sneaked another, knowing glance at his brother, “someone else. Just leave it, okay? Who said that I even wanted to get married at all? Why should I? It’s not like we can procreate, after all, is it?”

Yakov’s face turned an ugly shade of beetroot, and that’s when he knew he’d got to the older man, something he noted with great satisfaction. “Of course not,” he snapped, fed up of his nephew’s antics by now, “but you need someone whom you can adopt children with. There’s nothing wrong with adoption.”

He would know-his own two children, Viktor’s cousins, Georgi and Mila, were both adopted, due to Yakov and his wife, Lilia, being infertile. It had worked out for the best, in the end, but he couldn’t imagine himself with children. What if he messed up? What if something happened and he couldn’t save them, the way he couldn’t save-

He stopped that thought where it was at, being brought to the present by his brother nudging his side. For a sixteen-year-old boy, he sure was strong. “You have to choose someone, _pridurok._ ”

This only enraged the King further. “Yuri, language!” Yakov chastised, practically growing. “Honestly, it’s as though the two of you were raised in a barn or something. It’s disgusting.”

Yuri shook his head. “No, what’s disgusting is him getting all lovey-dovey with somebody! Why can’t he just pick someone he tolerates for political purpose, instead of misguidedly trying to search for love?” He practically spat the word out, as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Yakov shrugged. “It’s beyond me,” he articulated, shooting a meaningful glance at Viktor, who sighed and picked at the bottom of his silk shirt.

“I don’t know, I just need to feel it in my bones, know if he’s The One.”

Much to his surprise, Yakov began to laugh. “Oh, you’re a funny one, Vitya. The One? You’ve got to be kidding me, you can’t be serious. That stuff doesn’t exist outside of fairy tales and fiction. As if you could ever find ‘The One’. Anyway, let’s get Lilia in here so that we can review your list of potential suitors again.” That being said, he left the room, snapping his fingers at his scared-looking personal assistant, who followed him diligently. Viktor shut his eyes and rubbed at his forehead, attempting to alleviate some of the tension that had built up in there from the sheer pressure of having to choose the man he was going to be spending the rest of his life with. At least Yakov was accepting about his choice in suitor, but that never had been a real issue for anybody before, in any of the lands. It was a good job, too, because he couldn’t imagine spending the next fifty or sixty years with a woman-it was unthinkable, in his mind.

“What did you mean, earlier, when you were talking about Otabek?” Yuri hissed into his ear; his emerald eyes wide. “About him liking someone else. Do you know that for certain, or…?”

Viktor smirked to himself. Yuri’s crush on Otabek had been obvious to him ever since they’d met at a party three years prior; he’d been enamoured immediately. They’d started chatting and seemingly really hit it off, laughing and cracking jokes. They appeared so at ease, so comfortable with each other. It was something that he yearned for himself, so desperately. Not with Otabek, that was, but with somebody. Was that too hard to ask for?

He placed a hand on his brother’s frail shoulder, attempting to reassure him. “ _Yurio_ \- “

“That’s not my name.”

He bit down on his lip, hard, to stop himself from swearing at him. “Yuri, I can tell how much you like Beka. It’s clear that you're good friends, but you want more.” The teenager opened his mouth, ready to interrupt him, but Viktor placed a slender finger in the air, stopping him from speaking-it was a secret rule the two of them had. They’d had it for almost ten years, now, as far as Viktor could recall. “And that’s fine, even if his reputation isn’t always the best at times. I will support you as fully as I can with him, I promise. The person I was referring to was you-anyone would have to be blind not to see the chemistry between you both, and the way he looks at you. Whenever you walk into the room, his face lights up. I’ve seen it, and I’m happy for you.” He saw Yuri’s face. “Really, I am. You both really like each other, and that’s great.”

Yuri bit down on his nails, a nervous habit he often possessed. “You want tell Uncle Yakov or Aunt Lilia, will you?”

Viktor shook his head. “No, of course not. You can trust me.”

“You promise?” Yuri checked.

“I promise,” his older brother confirmed, holding out his pinky. They’d done pinkie promises all the time when they were younger, so he thought it would be a funny thing to do now, and oddly fitting. Chuckling to himself, Yuri wrapped his pinkie finger around his brothers.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

They release their fingers, and Viktor’s brother glared daggers at him. “Tell anyone about my crush on Otabek and I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” the Prince responded jovially, never one to take his threats seriously. “Now look sharp, Yakov is coming back with Lilia.”

Both of them immediately stood up straight, knowing the value Lilia placed on immaculate posture and grooming. After a quick inspection, she gave them a nod of approval and sat herself down on the round table in front of her, gesturing for the boys to do the same. Yakov himself sat down next to her, drumming his fingers onto the table. She shot him a look, and he stopped. Even her husband could be intimidated by her and her icy presence. Who knew?

Their personal assistants retreated to the other side of the room, next to the piano in the corner of the room. It was a beautiful thing, old and antiquated, casted from the finest bronze and gold. Dust collected and swirled around it like a snowstorm when the lid was lifted on it, which was not often, only on rare occasions, such as banquets and balls on parties. They hadn’t thrown many since-

Viktor swallowed. Well. They had only thrown a handful in the past fifteen years, put it that way. The rest of the room, he observed, was just as precious and worthy of preservation as that piano, with the heavy scarlet curtains lined with gold gilding draped over the spacious windows that lit up the room, the colourful chandeliers swinging precariously overhead, the dark, shiny tiles that covered the room. Not every room was tiled, just the meeting rooms, the Hall and the kitchens. This was done for the sake of their safety; when they were younger, the boys had races, and Yuri had tripped and injured himself once. Never again, they’d vowed at the time, so they replaced most of the tiles with luscious carpets imported from all over the world. That had been nearly ten years ago.

Even though the brothers were both considerably older now, too old for such childish games and the like, the children of Viktor’s personal maid, Yuuko, and her husband, the head chef, Takeshi Nishigori, would chase each other down the halls, despite Sara’s best efforts to prevent them from doing so. Sara Crispino was the royal nanny, and usually did an excellent duty, but it was not her fault that the seven-year-old triplets were so rambunctious. Maybe one day, she’d be charged with looking after his own children. Viktor was aware of how little he could be trusted.

“Right!” Yakov clapped his hands, alarming Viktor enough to bring him back to the present, back to reality. Ah, yes. He hadn’t even chosen a husband yet. Great. What was he going to do? He had no choice in the matter; he was to be married, and that was the end of the story. For the sake of upholding the Nikiforov’s reputation and the family name, to keep them relevant and rich and noble in the eyes of other countries. To keep Russia great. Viktor was doing this for his country, he reminded himself, so there was some comfort to be found, at least, in his selfless sacrifice. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Lilia nodded and Yuri shrugged, looking sullen. Viktor groaned, internally. So, it was going to be one of those meetings, was it? One of the ones where Yuri sat there, slumped down in his seat like a moody teenager, ready to kick off at any given moment. Perfect. Just what he needed today, of all days. He massaged his forehead again, feeling a headache coming on from all the stress he’d been experienced recently. This was all so frustrating; he didn’t know why his life had to be so complicated. Why couldn’t he just be a common person, and marry for love instead of political purposes? Surely, his life would be much better that way. But he knew that he was privileged nonetheless, so he decided to grit his teeth and bear it. What other choice did he have, at the end of the day?

“So,” Lilia began. “What about Jean-Jacques Leroy? His name means ‘King’, and he is a prince. You could even visit Canada frequently, that way. A good-looking Canadian prince-who could possibly say ‘no’ to that? He speaks fluent French, so he’s very cultured, and he’s even in a band! He’s musically talented, so there should not be an issue there.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at his aunt’s uncharacteristic display of enthusiasm towards his future spouse, but welcomed it all the same. He never really saw this side of her, so it was nice to see, he supposed. “Remind me how old he is again?” Viktor prompted, knowing that he probably was not going to like the answer. Lilia flushed and adjusted her glasses, looking a little embarrassed, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Well, he’s twenty-years-old, but- “

“Then he’s too young for me,” Viktor was quick to interject. Lilia tutted.

“Won’t you try to work with us here, Vitya? You know we love you very much- “

He let out an undignified snort in response to this. “Yeah, you love me so much that you’re arranging to get me married to a complete stranger for your own political gain. How very Machiavellian of you.” Yuri clapped a hand over his mouth, trying his best to suppress a laugh at Viktor’s words and failing-his brother did make a good point, to be fair to the guy.

Yakov slammed his first on the table, pink in the face, causing them all to jump. “Enough! Vitya, I will not have you disrespecting the two of us like this. As for you-“he looked straight at Yuri-“you are rude and disrespectful towards your elders on a regular basis, and even rude to Viktor. He saved your life, you know, and this is how you thank him?”

Yuri flushed and scratched the back of his neck, caught off guard all of a sudden. “That was years ago,” he mumbled. “I don’t even remember it.”

Lilia wagged a finger at him. “You wouldn’t be here today, having this conversation with us, if he hadn’t done what he did,” she pointed out. “Like your aunt Olga, like your parents, like your Babushka and now your Dedushka, too. The least you can do is be polite and courteous towards him.” Yuri rolled his eyes but agreed.

“Fine,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pocket. His boredom was obvious to them all, but they didn’t care; there were more pressing and urgent matters to be taken care of right now than pandering to the insignificant whims of a moody teenager.

Viktor, on the other hand, was preoccupied by something else completely. Even though he had never been close to his aunt Olga-she’d died at the age of seventeen, twenty years ago, when he was eight-the loss of his Babushka ten years ago still upset him, because they’d been close, and she’d given him wise counsel in her time. The grief from the death of Nikolai, his grandfather, six months ago, was still very painful, raw and real, for both him and Yuri, who had no real experience with grief prior to his death-he’d only been six when his grandmother had died, not alive yet when his aunt had passed away, and only one when his parents were killed in a fire.

For Viktor, on the other hand, his parent’s death had shaken him to the core. He’d been very close to his parents, especially his father, who had always told him to be brave, like a soldier, and to fight any battle, no matter how hard it was. He missed him every day. His mother had been a caring, wonderful woman, and he sorely missed her, too.

He didn’t notice that his hands were shaking until Yuri placed his pale hands on top of Viktor’s to stop them from doing so. Turning to him, Viktor nodded in acknowledgement, mouthing ‘thank you’ to him. Yuri ignored it, however, focusing his attention back to their aunt and uncle. It felt like a truce. Viktor couldn’t help but smile at the small victory.

“Let’s continue,” Yakov decided, before any of them could get too worked up about what they had lost in their time. Lilia peered at the list in front of her, squinting a little.

“Ah, yes. Here, we have Christophe Giacometti.” If Viktor had been drinking in that particular moment, he would have done a spit-take.

“ _Tetya_ , I love you and all, but you are joking, right? He’s a notorious sex symbol, for fuck’s sake.”

Lilia lowered his glasses and fixed him with a sharp glare. “Language. Do not use such unattractive words, please. They are not fit for royalty.”

Viktor didn’t care, though, and brushed off her words in an instant. “Look, I am open to finding a suitor, but he’s too…promiscuous for me, shall we say? He has a vast array of sexual experience that I do not possess.” Yuri snickered somewhat at his twenty-year-old brother’s lack of sexual prowess-you’d think somebody that age would have done something, at least. Yet he had not; he was allegedly ‘waiting for marriage’, or whatever. _Geez, what a loser,_ he thought. Viktor flushed, embarrassed at his own transparency.

“Vitya, my dear, the Giacomettis are Swedish royalty, and very well-respected,” Lilia argued.

“I don’t care. Not him. _Please._ ”

She sighed at his stubborn nature. Just like Aleksander, she thought. His father would be proud of him if he were alive today, she had no doubt about that-but the young prince was hopeless sometimes. “Okay, what about Phichit Chulanont, then?”

Viktor scrunched his nose up in distaste. “The Prince of Thailand?” Lilia nodded. “No, he’s too bubbly all the time. He would get on my nerves. I met him once, remember?”

Who could possibly forget? A drunk Phichit had stumbled his way on over to him, giggling as he introduced himself to Viktor at his twenty-fifth birthday party. Taken aback by this, he had moved away from the man, who proceeded to follow him and accidentally spill his champagne all over him, before apologising profusely. Then, he’d returned to chatter loudly to his attractive, dark-haired friend who was stood across the room from him, someone he had been meaning to talk to but didn’t have the courage to converse with. Odd, considering that he was literal royalty, yet he was too afraid to go and talk to someone he found good-looking.

Anyway, Phichit had left the event having completely humiliated himself, but not after talking Viktor’s ear off for half an hour about his homeland. At the time, Viktor had cruelly labelled him ‘the disgrace of Thailand’, but now he looked at that nickname in shame. Nonetheless, he could not stand the guy, regardless of whether he was drunk or sober.

Lillia paled at the memory. “Okay, that is understandable. How about Lee Seung Gil? His family are aristocratic South Koreans, the richest family in the whole country, in fact. And he is quiet, drawn in to himself, furtive. Like you.”

Yuri snorted, but his amusement was quelled instantly by a sharp glare aimed at him from his uncle. Viktor groaned. “He’s too similar to me, then. I wanted somebody who could help bring me out of my shell, not someone who would put me back in it.”

Lilia sighed. “Viktor, don’t rely on your future husband for that. Only you can do that yourself. Although, perhaps the pair of you are a bit too similar in terms of personality, we need someone a bit different to make your relationship appear interesting…how about Yuuri Katsuki?”

Abruptly, Viktor stood up and pushed his chair into the table. He was sick of talking about suitors at this point. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Viktor, no- “ Yakov began.

“Not again, please-" Lilia pleaded, pinching the bridge of her nose and rising with him. Yuri just stared at him, silently pleading for his older brother not to leave him alone with their older relatives. Ignoring this, Viktor tore his icy blue eyes away from him and focused on the door in front of him, pushing it open.

 _“_ Don’t wait up for me.”


	2. The Ice Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor reminisces about his past while out on a walk, and has an important conversation with Lilia and Yakov when he returns to the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this as one chapter but decided to split it in two, hope you like it! Trigger warning for mentions of death, swearing and self-deprecation. Enjoy this chapter, the next one should be out no later than Friday night! Xx

He needed some space, and some time to breath. The only person permitted to be with him on his walks around the vast and sumptuous grounds of the palace was his personal assistant, whom Lilia still insisted on referring to as a ‘maid’, Yuuko Nishigori, who was married to the head chef, Takeshi Nishigori. Appearing from where she had been stood, in the corner of the room, she scurried after him, looking a little exasperated.

“Prince Viktor, your highness, where are you going?” The prince turned to her, running a hand through his mess of silver hair, making it stick up in the most unprofessional manner possible-he looked like he had just got out of bed, but of course his whole attitude towards this was rather nonchalant.

“I’m going for a walk by the lake,” he told her, and she nodded. He started off again, and she walked alongside him, trying her best to match his pace. Despite being two years his senior, her eyes had bags underneath them, exhaustion setting permanent lines in her face.

“That’s okay, as long as we’re back within an hour then hopefully they may be willing to forgive you, your royal highness.”

Viktor laughed, then, at the formality in her voice. She’d known him since her children were born, seven years ago. There was really no need for all that fakery. “Please, Yuuko. For the last time, just call me Viktor.” Yuuko’s eyes widened; as much as she did not wish to disobey him, another part of her did not want to do away with referring to the Prince using the rightful language that he deserved to have used about him, as a way of showing respect towards the monarch. She bowed her head as a sign of respect towards him.

“If you insist, your royal highness.”

He nodded, opening the wide double doors that led out to the courtyard at the back of the palace. “I do,” he insisted, taking in a deep breath of icy fresh air with a smile. Clearing his head really did wonders for him. “How are the triplets?” he asked, after a few minutes of strolling in awkward silence.

Yukko beamed at the mention of children, her eyes lighting up. He couldn’t see the appeal of children, personally, so he didn’t fully understand her enthusiasm towards them, nor did he try to. Instead, he simply asked polite questions about them, while simultaneously vowing to never have his own. Inside his own head, of course; his desire to not have children was a source of great contention and stress in the palace. After all, he was supposed to have ascended on the throne following on from his parent’s death-he was the rightful heir to the throne. But his grandfather had stepped in and insisted on doing the job instead, bless him. He’d argued that a shaken, traumatised thirteen-year-old boy was in no fit state to run the country, and of course, he was right. Nikolai had also come to the conclusion that his own children should rule next, Yakov and Lilia, and so on, unless Viktor was ready to step up to the plate and take on the role of the ruler of Russia. Now, it seemed like he would have no choice, and that his reign would be inevitable.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of seagulls flying overhead. The sound was oddly comforting to him, in a way that he could not explain. He drank in his surroundings, taking in the trees with the icicles hanging of them and shining in the light of the sun, the melting snow that carpeted the grass below his feet and the frozen lake in front of him, practically beckoning him to skate on it.

He didn’t know what all of what had sparked his initial interest in skating, only that one day, he’d seen a small boy perform for him and his family, a boy who could not have been any older than eight, and was fascinated by the way he moved. It wasn’t too long before his parents died, come to think of it. A mere nine months beforehand, when Yuri was only a few months old. The adult skaters out there were impressive too, and so majestic. Their bodies moved with the music so gracefully, it was as though they became the music itself. Dancing on ice, most people liked to call it. _Magic,_ Viktor had corrected them. It was magic, plain and simple, the elegant way they became one with the ice as soon as they stepped on it, and looked so bare and empty without it guiding them. Fire on ice, all heat and passion, excitement and love, displayed in one simple sequence. He’d been enthralled, mesmerised by their movements, and that was when he knew that it was something that he wanted to try for himself.

His parents had signed him up for skating lessons a month later, and he’d gone to every single one, twice a month, for seven months. Then, his parents died, and Nikolai insisted that he should be moved away from the ice. Yakov decided, upon becoming his guardian, that the boy was stay inside the palace, protected from the harsh outside world. It was for the best. His uncle had done what was best for him, hadn’t he? It had seemed that way, at the time.

Viktor truthfully wasn’t so sure, any more.

He’d only made three public appearances in the twelve years since his parents had died; on one occasion, to celebrate Nikolai and his babushka’s coronation, once on his eighteenth birthday, to celebrate him becoming an adult, and more recently, at Yakov and Lilia’s coronation. Funerals were a private matter for the Nikiforov family, and not made a public spectacle in the slightest. No public service; people were to mourn the loss of royals in the comfort of their own homes. That would have to suffice, for them.

So, if Viktor couldn’t come to the world, the world would have to come to him, in the few balls and birthday parties hosted over the years. Most of them only involved extended family, but some of them included acquaintances to the family and their children, some of whom were friends with, or who actually were, his potential suitors. How his life had changed over the years. Adult responsibilities sucked.

With that in mind, he took off towards the lake, gliding across it like a swan. This came as naturally to Viktor Nikiforov as breathing did; it was easy, and light, and made him feel careless and free. Nothing could bother him. Not his uncle’s infuriated ranting; not his aunt’s stern lectures; not his brother’s discontented grumbling; not his servant’s constant stress; not the unbearable pressure of having to chose a suitor; not the dark tragedy shrouding the death of his aunt Olga; not his grand father’s recent death; not his grandmother’s tragic passing; not his duty to serve his country under any circumstances; not even his parent’s terrible death. Nothing.

He vaguely registered Yuuko’s voice calling to him from somewhere in the distance, urging-no, begging-for him to be careful out there. He just rolled his eyes and continued gliding over the ice, weightless, free. He was the ice prince, powerful and unstoppable from the second he set foot on the ice, he was one with the ice, he was ready to take off like a bird and fly…

That’s when he lost his footing, and slipped, some of the ice falling through into the water below him. Viktor gasped and tried to right himself, and Yuuko looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Shaking, he managed to pull himself back up and away from where he’d fallen, gliding across the other side of the lake with ease, his heart beating fast and his ears ringing. By the time he reached a waiting Yuuko, she was shaking.

“Prince Viktor!” she called, when he was close enough to hear. “Are you okay, your royal highness? You could have died!”

Viktor sighed and drummed his slender fingers on his leg impatiently. “But I didn’t,” he pointed out, huffing. He stepped on to the grassy bank in front of him, albeit with great reluctance, watching the slush that had been snow not so long ago disintegrate and melt into it.

“It’s been half an hour. We should get back now, your majesty,” Yuuko informed him, and he sighed, too mentally exhausted at this point to argue with her, heading back the way he came.

He dreamed that one day he would be on the ice for real. If only his dream could become a reality-but that was wishful thinking, and a sign of weakness. He needed to be strong and do his duty, by serving his country. So, that’s what he would do. Squaring his shoulders up, he tried to be as stoic and soldier-like as he could physically manage, his gaze stony and his stance defensive, guarded off. He’d been through the wars, so now whatever obstacles came his way, he would overcome them all.

It’s what his father would have wanted, so he had no choice in the matter-that is what we would do, end of story.

The walk back was tense and awkward, and the two of them barely spoke the whole way back, but Viktor wasn’t too bothered by that. He knew how dangerous opting to skate on a frozen over lake was, but he hadn’t cared; the sensation of soaring, transporting himself to the magical world he’d first peeked a glimpse of at the age of twelve, that made it worth it.

Even if he had just nearly died.

“Vitya, there you are!” Yakov noted with relief, mingled with mild irritation. What did he expect? “Come on, we’re having another meeting, about your duties, this time. And you will not storm out in the middle of it, you promise me?” That’s how he knew he was forgiven, by his uncle not scolding him outright for making a scene earlier. Yakov was always lenient on him in a way that he wasn’t with Yuri, because he knew all that he’d gone through, which Yuri hadn’t suffered through. By some unspoken agreement, perhaps, or a miracle of God, Yuuko elected not to tell him about what had happened.

A wise decision; the King was too preoccupied by much more pressing matters, a lot of complicated stuff to do with the military and international political relations, tedious stuff that Viktor knew all about, but did not care much for just yet. He would, when he was older. Yet he did not feel like it concerned him at the moment, because he wasn’t directly involved in it. Either way, King Yakov and Queen Lilia both had a lot on their plate, so hearing about Viktor’s brief near-death experience-he could have fallen through and drowned back there-would only serve to heighten their anxiety further, and get Yukko fired for alleged negligence, and would blacklist both her and her husband, when they both had kids to provide for. So maybe she didn’t tell him for them, and not him, but he was glad about it regardless.

“Okay,” he responded, thinking about his mother’s words. Always strive to be the best, my little Vitenka, she’d whisper, kissing the top of his head and stroking his hair. Odd hair, she called it. When he asked why it was silver, the only response she could provide him with was, ‘magic’. _Magic._ That elusive force of nature that he’d felt earlier, while skating. He briefly wondered whether it did exist or not. Even if it did, he had important matters to attend at that moment. He snapped himself out of it and followed Yakov down the long, winding corridor that led to the Main Room, where all the balls were held, and the two majestic thrones stood strong, purple and decorated with gold.

 _It should be mat yi otetz up on those thrones,_ Viktor thought, tearing up. _Not Uncle Yakov and Aunt Lilia._ Usually, the eldest would take the throne, and that would be Yakov, yes-but that was not how things worked in Russia. Instead, the reigning monarchs trained up the child that showed the most promise, and their bloodline would rule the country. Yakov didn’t mind, because he rather enjoyed the prospect of having a normal life-until their whole world turned upside down, that was. His parents had been good leaders, he recalled. Kind. Caring. Logical. Determined. Hard-working. Courageous. Incredible. _They’re not on the throne, and it’s all my fault,_ he reminded himself, as he did so often. _My fault, my fault, my-_

“Viktor!” Lilia’s voice interrupted his train of thought. He blinked a few times, realising that they were back in the Meeting Room, despite him having no recollection of having moved past the Main Room. He must have been too lost in his own head, his own thoughts, his own little world, in the way he always was. “Come in, and sit down. We need to talk.”

Bracing himself for whatever was coming next, Viktor situated himself on the circular table, sandwiched between his cousin, Georgi, and Lilia. Next to Lilia was Yakov, with Yuri, whose feet were resting idly on the table, to his right, and Mila situated between Yuri and Georgi. The six of them met often, and ate every single meal together, so they were practically siblings; there was often a comfortable, easy atmosphere between them, and today was no different.

“Yuri, get your feet off the table.”

Yuri glared at Mila. “I’ll pass, thanks, old hag. You don’t get to tell me what to do, anyway.”

Mila stuck her tongue out at him playfully and he hid behind his hair, trying not to laugh. Viktor spoke to Georgi while Yakov and Lilia discussed and scrutinised a piece of paper that lay in front of them, an important document by the look of it.

“Where’s the make-up today, Georgi?” It was no secret that, although he was a straight cis man, he was also needlessly flamboyant and loved wearing colourful costumes and bright-make up, whereas Viktor, the token gay of the family (Yuri hadn’t officially come out, yet), although just as dramatic, was somewhat subtler in his fashion tastes.

“Where’s the wig today, Rapunzel?” It was an inside joke of theirs, because he’d spent so much of his life confined to the walls of the palace, and he’d had long hair when he was younger, from being a young boy of ten. He’d cut it off on his eighteenth birthday, on live, national television, during his second public appearance since his parent’s death. It was an attempt to retain some sort of control to his life. He wasn’t sure if it had worked, but it had been therapeutic for him all the same. Cathartic.

In response to this, he chuckled and launched into some chatty small talk about how his new girlfriend, Anya, was. Viktor almost envied how fortunate Georgi was, in that he’d be granted a relatively normal life in comparison to him-unless he chose to assume the throne after his father’s reign on the throne ended. Well, so he thought, anyway.

Lilia clapped her hands in an attempt to focus their attention on her and her husband. “Right. Attention, children.”

“I’m not a child!” Mila, Georgi, Viktor and Yuri all protested at the same time. Mila had a point, being nineteen, and Georgi too, being a grown adult of twenty-eight, like Viktor, but Yuri was only sixteen, and they all protected him as fiercely as they could. He was still a child, in their eyes.

Yakov chuckled at their synchronicity; those kids were close, and it was nice to see. It was such a shame that they were all forced to grow up so fast. Lilia cleared her throat, amusement dancing in her emerald eyes, before continuing. “Anyway, as you all know, one day, we will pass on our reign to one of you. Obviously, Aleksander was the chosen one, appointed by Nikolai to take over because he was getting too old and tired of the throne, and when Aleksander and Nikita passed- “she paused, wiping at her eyes, with Viktor, Georgi and Yakov stopping to do the same thing-“him and Anastasia re-established their rules as monarchs for fourteen years, and did a splendid job of it. Of course, he wasn’t the same when Anastasia died, but he carried on like a soldier until the very end. Now, it is down to us to look after the country, at Nikolai’s wish-he would rather wait longer for the next person in line for the throne to take over. And the first in line for the throne, as well as the person with the most potential job is, without a doubt, Viktor.”

At the mention of his name, Viktor raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Why does he have to be King and not Georgi?” Yuri asked, scowling and moving a piece of hair out of his face to allow him to look at his aunt.

“Because, he is not part of our biological bloodline, not our true kin, as much as he is our son.” He directed his gaze to Georgi. “That doesn’t mean we love you or your sister any less, of course, than our nephews. Family is family, at the end of the day.”

Georgi nodded, understanding his point completely, squeezing his sister’s hand. Despite what the regency would tell you, blood didn’t make a family. Love did. 

“Ohana means family, and family means no-one gets left behind,” Yuri muttered. Viktor smiled at him, fondly remembering the Disney marathons they used to have when Yuri was a young boy. Those movie marathons made him feeling young and innocent again, like the universe hadn’t taken his heart and torn it to shreds. That was a long time ago now, and he hadn’t felt that way for a while. It was a shame, really, but it was the truth, and it had to be said.

“Something like that, yes,” Lilia said, smiling fondly at her two nephews, her son and her daughter. Her and Yakov had done well in raising them, she thought. They’d tried their best, but it had been hard over the past six months, without Yakov’s help-and Anastasia’s death nearly ten years prior hadn’t helped, either. Still, adopting Georgi twenty years ago, and choosing to adopt Mila (who was from another family that knew his) three years later, was the best decision they had ever made as a couple, no doubt about it.

“So, do you understand, Viktor? You have to step up to the plate now. No more running away. No more childish games or petulant temper tantrums. No more living in your own fantasy world. You’re first in line to the throne, Vitya, so you need to choose yourself a husband already. Every man on that list is going to be invited here, and each and every one of them is going to take you on a date. You can make a fuller judgement on them once you’ve been on a date together. Think about the legacy your parents left behind in restoring this country to greatness again, and the good you can do when you’re in charge one day. Consider how having another King by your side will help you to make the best decisions possible for your country. I mean, think about it. Seventeen million square kilometres, and it’s all yours to rule one day. Wouldn’t you like that? You need somebody by your side, so are you going to go through with this or not?”

Viktor swallowed hard; the pressure thrust upon him in the heat of the moment was insurmountable. This was his patriotic duty. He had to do what he must to stay devoted to his country. Millions of good, kind-hearted, intelligent and innovative people were relying on him, and he didn’t want to let them down. Didn’t want to let his loving family down, chaotic as they were sometimes. Didn’t want to let his parent’s memory down. Didn’t want to let anybody down.

 _Become a soldier, Viktor_ , he heard his father tell him in his head. _Always strive to be the best,_ his mother’s voice added. Viktor’s hands shook and he clenched his fist. He couldn’t stand most of his potential suitors, but so what? His opinion didn’t matter here. All that mattered was avenging his parents, and serving his country for the sake of the people in it, and for his family-Olga, Nikolai, Anastasia, Alexander, Nikita-as well as Yuri, Georgi, Mila, Yakov and Lilia.

His mind on the matter was made up. That was all he needed. To abandon his dreams of becoming a professional ice skater (it was too late now, even if he wanted to, though) and follow the path that had been set out for him from the beginning. He glanced round at the table, steely determination brightening up his beautiful eyes and making him appear more like a fighter than ever.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Bring them in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking your time to read this, I hope you liked it. If so, feedback is always appreciated. Have a great day and stay safe out there! :)


	3. First Impressions Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor finally meets all of his potential suitors in real life-can any of them melt his heart of stone? Or is the Prince Nikiforov entirely unattainable?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hope you like this next chapter! Next update should be on Friday! I realised that the other characters should have been saying 'your royal highness' to address Viktor, instead of 'your majesty'-which I should have known considering the fact that ya girl's British! Anyway, bon Appetit and all that!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING-SWEARING, MENTIONS OF DEATH, MILD SELF-DEPRECATION AND MILD NSFW IMPLICATIONS!!!

"This is so exciting! Today's the day! Aren't you excited?" Yuuko was chatting at about a thousand miles an hour while she polished his shoes, and he fixed his tie in the mirror, slicking his hair back again with a sigh. Didn't she get it? He wasn't doing this for himself. He was doing it for Russia. He was doing it for Lilia and Yakov, Mila and Georgi, Yuri. For Olga, Anastasia, Nikolai. Most of all, for his parents, Nikita and Aleksander. 

He shrugged. "Not really, no. It's just my duty to my country, isn't it?" Looking up at him, Yuuko shook his head sympathetically, saying nothing. Pity misted over her amber eyes. 

"Honestly, your royal highness. Are you not excited to meet your future husband?"

He made some non-committal noise in response to her question. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well," Yuuko observed, dusting off the shoulders of his jacket, "it could be worse. At least they're not trying to find you a wife." Viktor shuddered at the thought. 

"Don't remind me."

He was grateful that they respected his decisions and sexuality enough to let him be with a man. When he'd told them he was gay, at the age of fifteen, they had been nothing but supportive towards him-he was hoping for the same thing to happen to his brother, but Yuri was still in the closet. _What's in your closet would suggest otherwise_ , Viktor often used to tease, given that Yuri had a tendency to gravitate towards sparkly clothes and bold animal prints. Obviously, it was just a joke, but Yuri took everything he said on board sometimes, and would storm off in a huff. _A family of drama queens,_ is how Yakov had once described them. He couldn't help but think that perhaps the old man had a point. 

Right on cue, he heard Yuri let out an ear-piercing, earth-shattering scream. "No! I already told you, I'm not 'cute', I don't 'look like a kitten' and pink is NOT 'my colour', whatever the hell that's supposed to mean!" 

Well, his appointment with his stylist must have been gone well, then. 

A minute later, Yuri shoved through the heavy double doors of Viktor's bedroom; clearly, the guards had noted the furious expression on the young Prince Yuri's face and decided not to question him, and to just let him through. He had tantrums like this a lot; Lilia suspected it was just puberty, and hormones, a part of being a teenager-but Yakov thought otherwise. It was a matter of personality, he'd insisted until he was blue in the face. Viktor wasn't sure where all of Yuri's pent-up rage originated from, but he figured that it was better to let it out than to keep it in.

"Yuri, what a pleasant surprise-" 

"Do you have the suit?!" he practically growled. Knowing what he meant in an instant, Viktor nodded and moved to his wardrobe to locate the purple silk suit that Yuri often wore at family events. His dark blue one was at the royal dry cleaner's, due to the fact that Georgi had accidentally spilt his drink on Yuri when they were having a 'fashion show', three days ago. The two of them, with their flamboyant tastes, had a tendency to do that. Feeling left out, Mila and Viktor had judged at first, calling out random scores, but they soon grew fed up of it and resorted to playing some kind of drinking game.

What kind, Viktor didn't remember now. His hangover the following day has been a testament to that. He didn't binge drink often, but when he did, he always got out of control, because he just wanted to forget everything he'd gone through and have some fun, enjoy himself in the moment. He wasn't too sure if his repeated vomiting and dreadful hangover the next morning had been worth it, in the end, but that didn't matter. Besides, he enjoyed spending time with his family-what else was there to do when you were stuck in your own home? 

Well, a lot, but there were only so many books one could read before it drove them crazy. Painting and drawing was fun, he supposed. He did that sometimes. And he could play the piano, but the stuff he played was always sad, lamenting the losses that he carried the weight of inside his heart every single day of his life. 

"Here you go," he said, beaming at his scowling younger sibling. His charming, heart-shaped smile worked on most people, but it didn't seem to crack Yuri, who just rolled his eyes and snatched the suit off him without even saying 'thank you.' 

"You don't look terrible," he remarked when he reached the door, the look in his eyes softer than it had been a few seconds prior. "Not terrible at all. This suitor of yours will be a lucky man. As long as you don't take mine." The older of the two princes laughed. Yuri was funny, sometimes, especially when he wasn't meaning to be. The boy didn't consider Yuuko as someone who would push the matter, presumably. That being said, he turned on his heel and left the room. 

Viktor flopped down onto his bed, sighing. It was one of the most luxurious beds imaginable; spacious, grand and incredibly comfortable. The red velvet curtains at the sides ensured that he had maximum privacy at all times, and the soft pillows were perfect for cuddling whenever he felt lonely. Which was often, these days. Maybe having a husband would fix that. 

Or not. He couldn't tell, yet, but he was terrified of what was approaching him-it was another step towards life as a fully functioning adult. And he'd been one for a decade, now, so he should know how to behave like one. According to King Yakov, anyway. Not that they always got along with or agreed with each other, of course. More the opposite, with Viktor deliberately attempting to wind him up on a regular basis, but there was no malice behind it. Not really. 

"Your royal highness, your suit will get rumpled!" Yuuko pointing out, biting her nails and pacing the room. He had to look presentable, or else the sons of the monarchs would leave and want nothing to do with him-if he couldn't put on a public appearance and look professional, what kind of prince was he? 

He had to admit that she had a point. He heaved himself up, off the bed, wishing he could treat himself to a nap. He hadn't slept well, that night; he'd been too busy tossing and turning, thinking about his haunting past, his stressful present, his scary future. He didn't know which one he hated more. Actually, in hindsight, yes, he did. His past was a nightmare from hell, and not a place he intended to return to, ever again.

So, he wouldn't. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders back, Viktor braced himself to explore the unknown. Yuuko gave him a thumbs-up as he stepped into his shoes, tying the laces for him while he stared determinedly past her. Today, he would be making what was possibly going to be the biggest decision of his life so far. He crossed his fingers and hoped that he wouldn't screw it up. Yuuko finished tying his shoelaces for him, and he plastered a fake smile onto his face for her benefit.

"I'm ready to go." 

Although his appearance wasn't perfect, it would have to do. Everyone down there would be waiting for him, anticipating his reaction to the royalty and nobility set on stealing his heart. The whole of Russia was watching. It felt like the whole of the world was watching, waiting for him to find his prince Charming and waltz away into the sunset with him. That was not quite how it would work, he was certain, but he'd have to give the day a go nonetheless. He'd have to spend an hour on a date with each one of them. Hopefully, he could derive some sort of enjoyment out of the activities of the day, depending on what they had in store. All he had now was hope. 

It would have to be enough. 

"Good luck, Prince Viktor," Yuuko whispered, letting him past. He thanked her and exited the room, with her soon hot on his heels. She was awarded with more freedom of speech whenever it was just the two of them alone, but when they were in the public eye, it was a different matter altogether. She was not permitted to speak, unless it was to answer a question asked of her. Only speak when spoken to, was a good general rule of thumb for the servants working for the royals. When in groups, anyway. Royal protocol demanded things to be such a way, but in private, their relationships with their servants were, generally speaking, more relaxed and informal, depending on the individual, of course.

Viktor made the long walk, across the landing, past room after room. There were a total of twenty-bedrooms in the palace; the ones that could be located in the servant's quarters, for example-about seven of them, because Sara shared with her twin brother, Michele Crispino, and the Nishigori family had one bedroom to themselves, and Emil shared his quarters with three other people, including their butler, Minami. Then, there was the room for people with specific jobs, which held half a dozen people, including the ballet instructor, Minako, who had encouraged Viktor to take up ice skating in the first place.

The other three bedrooms had four other servants, cooks and other workers in them each. The thirteen other rooms were for Yuri, Mila, Georgi, Yakov and Lilia, Viktor, and that left the five guest bedrooms and the the three forbidden bedrooms nobody went in any more. Seeing as there would be six suitors, two of them were room-sharing; Phichit Chulanont and Katsuki Yuuri, apparently, because they were already friends, he'd heard. The rest of them had rooms to themselves. As for the two other bedrooms-they had tragedy shrouding them. There was Anastasia and Nikolai's old room, and Aleksander and Nikita's old room. The third room had been Olga's, back when she was alive. 

Viktor shuddered as he walked past it, feeling eerie all of a sudden, for no apparent reason. Yuuko rushed forward determinedly, and Viktor understood why. Passing those three rooms, which were all next to each other, was both unavoidable and spooky. _Haunting._ A memory of five losses too great to bear. Moving past them, he rushed towards the bathrooms, of which there were half a dozen, all lined up in a row and opposing each other, three on each side, all of them extremely spacious. Two of them were for guests, and four of them were for their servants. Each member of the Nikiforov family had their own en-suite bathroom by default. 

Beyond the bathrooms, were four rooms of great importance; the cabinet room, where all the trophies and awards members of his family had been awarded throughout the years. The cabinet was collecting dust, now. Viktor wished he had a medal to bring home, but his dreams of becoming an ice-skater had been shattered, now. When he was twelve, he was too old to start, anyway. Maybe it wasn't meant to be, plain and simple. He peeled his eyes away from the cabinet and focused on moving forward, the way he always did now with his life. All about advancing to the next thing. And the next. And so on. When would it end? When would he learn to appreciate the present? Would he ever learn how to do that, or was he doomed to always move on to whatever came next, going forward to stop him from looking back? 

He sighed. All these questions, and still no answers. The next room was a music room, containing every musical instrument conceivable; drums, which Yuri played often; an electric guitar, which was a personal favourite of Georgi's; the violin, which Lilia adored; the trumpet, which Mila played only to annoy everyone else, but enjoyed in secret; the keyboard, which Viktor himself enjoyed a turn on when he couldn't access a piano. Yakov liked to play the clarinet, on occasion, but was too embarrassed to admit it, and would turn fuchsia if it were ever brought up.

Next door, was the sauna and spa room, both of these considered to be one. And then there was the room next to it, which most of them found more therapeutic than the sauna or spa treatment; the room where that contained cheap, breakable items that they were allowed to smash to pieces, and one of the cleaners would clear it away afterwards. Yuri and Yakov, being the angriest of them all, used it more frequently than the rest of them. Viktor had been tempted to use it a lot, nowadays. Viktor strode on, determined to keep his head up high and his spirits up. In his head, his parents were there, silently supporting him and cheering him on. _You can do this,_ his mother's voice told him inside his head. _I promise._ He could do this, he knew he could. He'd done things that were a thousand times harder than this. 

He stood at the top of the elegant, marble staircase, spiralling downwards endlessly. He was powerful. Regal. Majestic. He needed to carry his own legacy on now. Viktor Nikiforov was about to meet his future husband. He took a deep breath and took the steps one by one, anticipation coursing through him. Smiling to himself, he walked down the corridor, letting Yuuko walk ahead of him so his arrival could be announced, his eyes firmly trained on the decorated door in front of him. 

"Your highnesses, may I present to you, the man you are fighting to steal the heart of, the wonderful Prince Viktor Nikiforov!" Despite almost all being royalty themselves, his potential suitors all turned and bowed upon his arrival, out of respect to him. It would be the first sight he'd be greeted with as he entered the room, keeping his head high and remembering to honour his parent's memory. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, the look in his eyes fierce, and entered the room. 

The first thing he noted was the colours they were wearing; he could only see their hair, and the jackets on their backs. One of them, with dark hair, was wearing sapphire blue, another was wearing dark purple, one was brandishing emerald green, the other ruby red, and the other two were wearing gold, and one black. He raised an eyebrow, surprised at their actions, and stood waiting for them to stand back up again, before drinking in their faces. God, they were attractive. It looked like his aunt had been right about something, at least. Even the obnoxious, smug-faced Prince Jean-Jacques Leroy was good-looking. Most of them were attractive in a hot, smouldering way, whereas Phichit seemed to be more cute than anything, Christophe was both hot yet pretty, and Phichit's dark-haired friend, the one whom he figured must have been Katsuki Yuuri, was simultaneously hot and cute. Viktor's cheeks heated up; he didn't think it was possible for someone to look like that. 

He tried to brush this off, though, pushing his feelings away and letting his voice become icy and impersonal, giving nothing away. He bowed to King Yakov and Aunt Lilia, as custom dictated. They looked like a force to be reckoned with, when sat on those thrones. Strong. Imposing. Magnificent. 

"These are my suitors?" he asked them, turning back around and climbing up on to the thrones around them, which were much smaller and were intended for princes and princesses. Mila and Georgi were situated to Lilia's right, with Yakov on her left, an empty space left between Yakov and Yuri-who looked elegant in his purple suit, that brought out the green in his eyes due to the colour contrast-and was staring straight at Otabek. Poor thing. He had it bad for the guy, huh? 

Lilia nodded. "Yes." 

Viktor took them all in again, observing the expressions on their faces. Chris looked confident yet not to an irritating degree, J.J, as he now wanted to term the prince, wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face that made Prince Viktor wanted to punch him badly. Of course, he was not permitted to do so. Oh well. He surveyed the rest of them. Phichit had a bright, cheery smile on his face, which appeared to be surprisingly genuine. Lee Seung Gil's face contained what Yuri once termed an 'RBF', or a 'Resting Bitch Face', his eyebrows almost touching. That wouldn't do at all. He'd come this far and he didn't even act as though he wanted to be there. His loss, Viktor decided with a smirk. Otabek's face was stony and he was almost frowning when his gaze was trained on him, but his face softened straight away when he spotted Yuri. The older prince would let him off the hook; the way his younger brother felt about the man was obvious, and vice versa. For Yuri's sake, he did not want to prevent that from happening-as long as the so-called 'Hero of Kazakhstan' didn't break Yuri's heart, that was. If he did, he'd be dead meat. Rubbing his hands in an attempt to warm them up, Viktor, who'd saved the best until last, forced himself to meet the Japanese prince's gaze. 

_He’s nervous,_ the Russian monarch realised. _I’ve made him feel nervous._ You could see it in the twenty-four-year-old's dark, glittering eyes. There was something different about this man to the others that he couldn’t quite explain, or put his finger on. Something special.

His ebony hair was slicked back in a professional manner, his amber eyes danced in the light streaming through the windows, sparkling with both determination and anxiety. Viktor recognised that look in himself. Huh. He didn't think that he'd actually be able to _relate_ to these people. Interesting. As weird as this was, his skin looked soft and shiny, his lips soft and kissable. Not that he was thinking about kissing him. Of course not. He was Viktor Nikiforov, the Russian Prince. The Ice Prince. He must do his patriotic duty to his country by displaying that persona, proving his mental strength and his ability to make rational, smart decisions. Emotions didn't come into that. Love certainly didn't. He'd learnt that ever since he'd claimed to be searching for it, two weeks ago. Yet, he couldn't help but feel drawn to this guy. He didn't know anything about him, because he'd stormed out when Lilia was discussing Yuuri-something which he regretted now, although it did admittedly make the man a bit of an enigma. That excited him. 

But that didn't matter-serving his country did. 

"You may say what you like to the prince," King Yakov declared. "Prince Christophe, you shall go first." 

Christophe bowed to Mila and Georgi, then Yakov and Lilia, then Yuri and Viktor. He approached him and bowed again, taking his hand and kissing it, staring him straight in the eye. His eyes were lime green, and his eyelashes were very long, making him look delicate and pretty, but he spotted the mischief in the glint of his eyes and the intent. In an instant, this was a man he knew that he would be able to tolerate. He raised an eyebrow at him teasingly, his own eyes sparkling like jewels. 

"Your royal highness," Christophe addressed him, sounding a little breathless, getting up in his personal space, "it is my privilege, my honour, my _pleasure-_ " he winked at the last word, and he caught on to what he meant in an instant, crossing one leg over the other-"to be here with you today, and to be allowed this opportunity to win this over, even if it is not so fruitful." He hummed in an approving manner, a subtlety which he was certain Lilia and Yakov would be able to pick up on. Maybe he'd underestimated Prince Christophe, after all. 

In response, he bowed his head. "The pleasure is all mine," he said, keeping his voice as hard as possible. He was not some prize to be won, but a great and noble prince, and nobody here was to forget that. Christophe stepped down, his head bowed, smiling to himself. Viktor forced himself not to let his own lips twitch up into a smile, keeping up the façade, the act. The Russian prince was a statue, a tribute, present but faraway, made of stone, unbreakable. 

"Next, please!" Lilia called, pointing to Lee Seung Gil. The man bowed politely to everyone, before switching his attention to the bachelor, his lips twitching up into a small, tight smile. It was plastic and made him almost shudder. 

"Your royal highness," he said, when he moved in closer, much further away than Christophe had been to him. "It is an honour to be here, today, with you. I hope I can give you what you want and need, to satisfy you in every element of your life. I hope to be able to give you happiness, and as much as I can." Ugh. Too formal, distant, cold. No. Just no. 

"Thank you," Viktor responded, through gritted teeth. Lee Seung Gil half-nodded, half bowed and stepped down again. _Yeah, no, not happening,_ he thought, eyeing him up carefully. 

"Prince Phichit, you next," Yakov demanded. Phichit was respectful, bowing to all of them as was customary, his smile wide. He stepped forward and shook Viktor's hand, taking him by surprise. What were the customs in Thailand? Was it normal to greet royalty in such a way? Maybe, in hindsight, some research should have been done into the countries which they were from beforehand. 

"Your royal highness, it is a great honour to be meeting with you today. I am here to proudly represent my people and my country, and I hope to teach you more of the customs and ways of it. I love it there and I love my people, I also promise to love you and your people just as much. As I have been told throughout the years, I bring a lot of cheer and happiness to people and am able of showing them how to love and appreciate what I do, and maximise their capacity for love." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Yuri fake a yawn. "I can show you the ways of my world, and a whole new world you have never seen before. I promise you this: I will learn to love the people of Russia as though they were the people of my own country, and I hope you will consider what I have said to you today." 

God no. He was so cringy and over-the-top sometimes, despite his well-meaning nature. How could Yuuri possibly stand this guy? His cheeriness almost came off as insincere, but his kindness shone through. Although a sweet guy, he would invariably end up talking his ear off in a conversation with him. Not to mention the fact that he still remembered the drunken incident from three years ago. So, that was another 'no', then. How was he supposed to find a husband, at this rate? 

"Thanks, prince Phichit" he managed to say, his eyes distant and faraway. Already, he was lost in another world, one where he could escape from his problems forever. On the ice, he was free to be reborn into who he wanted, however many times he wanted. He hoped that what he loved would be the key to his salvation-but what he loved and what he wanted, versus what he was doing and what he needed to get done, were two completely different things. 

A little perturbed by the Russian prince's lack of enthusiasm, the prince of Thailand stepped down, his head low, and spotting Christophe checking him out in his peripheral vision. Oh, maybe the suitors who weren't picked could find love elsewhere-in each other. How sweet. They certainly wouldn't end up finding it in Viktor, that much was certain. 

"Next up is Jean-Jacques Leroy!" Lilia shouted, and he winced. He could tell that this one was not going to go well. 

J.J., as Viktor referred to him inside his head, still retained the air of an arrogant, smug jerk about him. Next to him, he felt rather than saw Mila, Georgi and Yuri pull faces. Yakov and Lilia's faces undoubtedly stayed neutral, like they were supposed to. They were true professionals when it came to this whole royalty thing. Needless to say, their children and nephews had not mastered the art of subtlety yet. 

J.J bowed, and moved forward in a somewhat awkward, clumsy manner. "Your highness," he began, grinning, "may I just thank you for inviting me to stay at your palace. It really is a cosy little place, you know. Different to my home in Canada, but charming nonetheless." _Different?_ In what way? _Cosy?_ The palace contained thirty rooms upstairs, and thirty rooms downstairs. He'd hardly consider that small, yet this irritating Canadian prince obviously thought otherwise. Viktor glared daggers at him, hoping that he would receive the non-verbal message, but he didn't. Of course he didn't. "I look forward to enjoying your company later on today. Just so you know, your highness, I am part of a band, and I have twenty sports trophies. Alongside that-"

"Next, please!" Yakov barked, winking at his nephew, whose shoulders relaxed all of a sudden. 

"Thank you," he said to the Canadian Prince, his smile as bitter and fake as Lee Seung Gil's had been earlier. Frowning to himself, J.J. stepped down without any acknowledgement of what had been said and assuming his place back in the line. Viktor barely managed to repress a smirk, and his gaze naturally drifted for Yuuri, who was looking at Jean-Jacques with such disdain in his eyes, it was alarming, and probably reflected the way he'd been looking at the twenty-year-old, too. 

"Otabek Altin?" Lilia prompted. He turned his attention to the prince of Kazakhstan, who tore his gaze away from the youngest member of the Nikiforov with great reluctance and dragged it over to Viktor, his expression distantly polite, if slightly detached. He was somewhat younger than J.J, if he remembered correctly. Way too young for him-nine years younger, to be precise-but a mere three years older than his brother. Perhaps he ought to play matchmaker, and feign even more of a disinterest in the man than he already felt; that wouldn't be hard. Yuri was watching him like a hawk as it was, daring him to flirt or tease, but he stood strong in his position on the matter. 

He bowed respectfully, stepped forward and addressed him in a tone that conveyed forced politeness. "Your royal highness, I am here as the second-in-line to the throne of Kazakhstan. My people, they adore your country, as do I. It is a wondrous place of great scientific, economic and creative development. You are an inspiration to all of us. I am honoured to be standing here with five other men, competing for your hand in marriage." His tone of voice had a strained quality to it. "Thank you for allowing me this great opportunity, I hope I would be able to serve you well." 

Viktor felt some semblance of sympathy for the young man, really he did, but he had an act to keep up. He did not smile at him. "Thank you, I appreciate that," was the best he could muster up. He nodded at him, indicating that he could go, but not before he snuck a glance at Yuri, then swept his gaze back Otabek with a brief, knowing smile. Otabek's face softened for a second, and he appeared relieved and grateful all of a sudden, but he remembered to keep an act up of his own, hardened his face and stepped down to the line. That left just one more person. 

"Last but certainly not least, the prince of Japan, Katsuki Yuuri!" Yakov called out. Viktor swallowed hard, his heart beat sped up and his palms grew slick with sweat. What was happening to him? He must be strong, not weak. He must stand tall, not fall for someone. What had he done? 

Yuri bowed in a polite manner to each and every family member, leaving Viktor until last, and bowed for the longest. The Russian man ignored Lilia's quiet hum of approval and centred his focus on the beautiful man in front of him. "Your royal highness," he whispered, his voice causing the silver-haired man to shiver, "I feel greatly honoured to be in your presence, right now, and to be deemed worthy to be contending for your hand in marriage along with these excellent princes. You are an incredible inspiration to us all, somebody whom we all look up to as a pinnacle of courage, strength and resilience. Your country is a great one, and I truly hope I can bring you happiness, regardless of whether I may have the privilege of being given your hand in marriage or not. Thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity." 

He bowed his head, and Viktor couldn't prevent a smile for making its way onto his face, despite himself. "Thank you so much, Katsuki Yuuri," he told him, his voice softer than it'd been with his previous suitors. _Shit._ He was supposed to act as cold as ice. What the hell was wrong with him? He could have kicked himself. Wide-eyed and flushing a little, the Prince of Japan stepped back down into the line. 

Yuri raised an eyebrow at his older brother, mocking him. Georgi was smirking. Mila was hiding behind her hair, giggling. Yakov seemed more relaxed, and Lilia looked almost pleased. He sighed and barely resisted the urge to slump down into the throne and massage his forehead; he could feel a headache coming on. So, it was going to be one of those days. He'd just have to deal with it, wouldn't he? 

He didn't have any other choice. 

"Now, as for the next step-each and every one of you is to take Prince Viktor on a date." She turned to him, her emerald eyes piercing into his soul. His aunt was insightful like that, he supposed. "Are you ready, your highness?" Casting one last look at the line of attractive, single princes in front of him, he nodded. 

"Ready as I'll ever be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to read this! Hope you liked it so far, please comment below if so, and have a wonderful day :)


	4. A Date to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor goes on a date with each of his suitors. Who will be the one to capture his heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, I've been working on other stuff recently but here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Xx
> 
> PS-TRIGGER WARNINGS-SWEARING-DEATH-SELF-DEPRECATION-REFERENCES TO DYSTOPIA.

_1\. Date Number One-Christophe Giacometti_

"I can't believe you," Viktor muttered, shivering. 

"Why, your Royal Highness? Surely, you _know_ that I have a reputation?" 

The Russian prince sighed. Admittedly, he did know, so he had no reason for complaint. But still. "I suppose so," he conceded, wishing to wipe of the smirk on Prince Christophe's face. "But really? Swimming, in the winter?" 

Chris raised an eyebrow at him. "Swimming, in the pool that can be found in your palace," he pointed out dismissively. "You'll hardly freeze to death." 

Well, it sure felt like it. The initial shock of jumping into the pool had overwhelmed him, and he'd let out a loud gasp, glaring at Christophe in an accusing manner. The prince of Sweden had just laughed his concerns off and swum over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Viktor didn't know whether to be scandalised or delighted at the human contact. The luxuries of dating and being physically or emotionally intimate with somebody else had never been afforded to him before, until now, and he was struggling to wrap his head around it, to become accustomed to this new way of life. His formative years had passed him by while he was cooped up in that palace with his family and lots of things to do, but no-one to do them with apart from the people he spent every waking day of his existence with. 

"I suppose not," he grumbled, pretending like he wasn't enjoying the sensation of someone holding his hand; Chris was leading him round the pool, trying his hardest to splash water into his face. Naturally, the twenty-eight-year-old was having none of it, and flipped him the bird. His irritation was not genuine, however, and Chris knew that. With him, he felt transparent, as though he were made from glass and that his thoughts and feelings could be seen by this guy. He wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life with him, if it weren't for the way he acted like he was the cat who had got the cream all the time. Not as smug as J.J, but confident, perhaps overly so. His confidence seemed to be largely sensual and sexual, based off shallow things such as looks and appearances. Not that he wouldn't make a good friend, though. He was one to consider, for sure. 

Chris pulled himself up, making his way to the twenty-foot high diving board. Viktor groaned; only Georgi and Yuri had managed to make perfect, or at least non-destructive, lands into the water. Lilia hadn't even tried, on the basis on not wanting to wet her hair, Yakov on the premise of his age, and Mila and Viktor had tried, but with little success. It occurred to him that perhaps Christophe should be made aware of this; then again, he didn't want to distract him or put him off, so he sighed, burying his misgivings, and watched the man competing for his hand in marriage climb up on the board. 

"Watch this!" he shouted, sounding a little too overenthusiastic about the whole thing for a fully grown adult. 

"Be careful!" Viktor called out, resenting how grown-up and sensible he sounded all of a sudden. He braced himself for the impact by swimming to the opposite end of the pool and observed while Chris jumped, tucking his knees while he did so. 

"Watch me go!" the Swedish prince shouted, diving into the pool and managing the perfect landing. Viktor clapped, visibly impressed. He could feel the ice beginning to thaw between them. _Fuck._

"Well done," he said, when Chris got close enough to hear him. "That was quite impressive, you know." 

Flushed, Chris grinned at him, taking his hands and twirling him round in the water. The Russian bit the inside of his cheek to hold in a laugh. "Thank you, your majesty," Chris said, once they stopped moving, and squeezed his hand. He soon shrugged it off. 

"It's no problem," he replied. "And please, just refer to me as 'Viktor'. No need for the pretences, especially considering the fact that you're royalty yourself. Speaking of which, what is royal life like in your country?" 

They discussed this during their laps of the pool, not quite trading life stories but simply indulging in brief, pleasant small talk about the ins and outs of their lives. 

After ten minutes or so had passed, Chris gasped. "What do you mean, you've barely left the palace for _fifteen years?_ I know you haven't had many public appearances in that time, but I just assumed-"

"Then you assumed wrong," Viktor snapped, feeling guilt wash over him straight away. 

"How did you cope? How did you manage not to go insane, out of your mind, crazy? I know I would have done, in your position." Viktor let out a bitter laugh. 

"Well, who says I haven't?" Chris laughed along, this time, and Viktor could really feel himself warming up to him. This hadn't been the plan, but felt welcoming nonetheless. They laughed and joked like this for another five minutes or so, the flow of conversation feeling easy and natural. It felt nice, but didn't fill him with the same warmth and butterflies and pent-up excitement and anxiety that Yuuri did. Of course, he couldn't base a rational decision such as who to marry off that. Could he? 

"We should probably get out now," Chris said, after a short amount of time. It certainly hadn't felt long, anyway. It was a shame to watch him go, but at least he'd see him, along with the other suitors, around in the palace. Their natural chemistry wasn't quite romantic, but it was nice to have made a new friend all the same. 

"We should," he agreed, sighing. When he got out, shivering as he adjusted to the cold, Prince Christophe glanced at him with amusement dancing in his lime-green eyes, brushing his blond and brown hair backwards and biting his lip, presumably in an attempt to act in a seductive manner. 

"Choices, choices," Chris whispered into his ear, making him shiver. "Whoever will it be?" His voice was light and teasing, with a suggestive undertone to it. Viktor shuddered. 

"I don't know yet," he told him, his voice sterner than it had been a moment ago. "Don't go around getting your hopes up, now." 

Never one to be put off by what Viktor was saying, Chris chuckled. "Believe me, I'm not," he explained. "Besides, I'm flirty with everyone-and I might have my eye on one of your other suitors..." 

Oh yes, Phichit Chulanont. He remembered now. That made sense; they were similar in their bubbly natures, but different, too, with Phichit seeming pretty innocent, and Chris appearing quite mature in comparison. That should make for an interesting couple combination. Maybe he shouldn't interfere with that, and not choose Chris-but he was a good option at the moment. Reliable. 

"Fair enough," he responded. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" He didn't wait for him to respond, wrapping a towel around himself and not looking at him. "Now run along, and go flirt with some other poor prince." 

"I will. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to get to know you, prince Viktor. I hope we can be friends." He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"So do I, Chris," he answered, genuinely meaning it. "So do I." 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_2\. Date Number Two-Seung Gil-Lee_

"So, you're two months younger than Phichit Chulanont?" 

The man shrugged. "Not quite, but yes." 

"I see." 

"Yeah," was all the south Korean seemed able to come up with. The silence that followed was deafening. Seung Gil Lee offered very little personal information about himself. Then again, neither did Viktor. Not because that was the cold and uncaring nature of his personality, unlike him, but because he'd been happy, and full of life, with a world of happiness in his life, and then the word had hurt him, shattered his illusions of joy and innocence permanently. He wasn't about to divulge in to his memories and bring up his painful past with someone he had just met, after all. 

"Why do you like horror movies so much, then?" Seung Gil Lee tore his eyes away from the screen of the short movie they were watching in their indoor cinema to meet Viktor's curious gaze. 

"I just think they're interesting, really. Like dystopian stuff. Look at all the possible outcomes of a scenario, and pick the worst ones. Seems pretty cool to watch play out. To me, at least." He frowned. "Not in real life, of course," he hastened to add. 

"Of course," Viktor agreed with a nod, knowing that the other man could only half make out his face in the semi-darkness of the room. He thought about resting his hand near his, but that was a step too far and invading the south Korean's personal space for sure. Besides, this was the only potential suitor of his who wasn't royalty. Although attractive and wealthy, given his age and lack of royal status, along side his disinterest in human interaction, he would hardly make the ideal match.

Bearing this in mind, he turned back to the movie, something about a virus, like the Second Plague, essentially, combined with a nuclear Third World War. It was rather miserable, really, now that he thought about it. All he knew about the person sat next to him was that he liked horror movies, was around twenty-one years old, owned a pet parrot called Rio- _how unoriginal,_ he thought-and that he had a husky called Akira, which he had to admit was actually a cool name. Oh, and he had a younger sister and liked coding and baseball. That was it. All he knew. 

Suffice to say, he'd discovered a lot more about Chris in the one hour time slot they'd been allotted for each date. Hell, he probably knew more about Angel, Prince Christophe's cat, than he did about the person he was on a date with. It really was quite unfortunate. Approximately twenty minutes later, which had dragged on despite the mind-controlled zombies, epic explosions, fast cars and chaotic fights in the film, their time together had finished while the credits rolled. Seung Gil Lee hadn't even had the courtesy to bring popcorn. Honestly. Who would want to marry someone who didn't bring popcorn with them to the cinema? Even if that cinema was located in his palace, he was certain that someone could have provided it if requested. 

Seung Gil Lee shook his hand before he left. "I apologise for my lack of social interaction with you," he said, wearing a sheepish smile on his face. "I cannot trust people easily and am not the most emotional person, it could be said. You're attractive and a very nice, interesting man, I'll give you that. Your future husband will be lucky. But..." he turned to the door, sighing, "I miss my home already. I'm not sure if I like in Russia, or if my place in society belongs with royalty. You do understand that, don't you?" 

Viktor hummed in agreement with him. "Yes, of course I do, and that's fine," he articulated, the response rolling off his tongue with ease. They seemed to have some unspoken understanding between the two of them, which was great and all, but it wasn't enough to make a relationship work. His communication skills were poor. They lacked a bit of finesse, to say the least. He wasn't royalty, he barely asked him about himself the whole time, and he was too young for him, too. That simply wouldn't do. "Good bye. I am sure I will see you around." 

Lee Seung Gil almost smiled, but not quite. "I'm sure I will." 

With that being said, off he went. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_3\. Date Number Three-Phichit Chulanont_

"Isn't it the coolest room in the whole palace?" What, the Games Room? Certainly not. He wasn't a teenager anymore. 

Viktor rolled his eyes and shook his head, Phichit's overenthusiasm about everything grinding his gears. "Not really, no." 

Phichit was persistent in his quest to get to know the Russian prince, however, and pushed on further. "What's your favourite room in the whole palace, then?"

Viktor placed a slender, gloved finger to his lip while he pretended to think about it. "My bedroom," he decided. Phichit's eyes widened. 

"Really?" 

"Really." He sighed, exasperated, trying to re-focus his attention on their game of pool. Picking up on this, Phichit continued their game, but of course, it wasn't long before he roped him into further conversation again. 

"What's it been like, spending the past fifteen years cooped up in here? I mean, what is there really to do here after a year or so of being stuck here?" Viktor shrugged, acting bored. It wasn't hard to do. 

"I mean, I haven't known any different, so it's been fine for me. My younger brother, Yuri, doesn't know any different for his entire life, which is a shame." 

Phichit nodded along, his eyes misted over with sadness. "That's so sad, I'm sorry that you had to live like that for so long. I know it was for the sake of your own personal safety of course, but still." 

Viktor chewed his lip, deep in thought. He contemplated whether or not to spill his heart to the prince of Thailand. Perhaps he should let him in, just a little. That way, it would be a weight off his shoulder. Not to mention the fact that he was a kind, warm and non-judgemental person, so he'd understand. "It's all my fault that he's spent pretty much his entire life locked away like a prisoner in this palace, though," he revealed. "It's not fair on Yuri in the slightest, what I've put him through all because of my own selfish decisions." He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain too hard to bear. 

He felt a warm hand squeeze his shoulder. Phichit was right by his side, ready to give his condolences. "I'm so sorry about what you've gone through, your Royal Highness, but please don't blame yourself. I'm sure what happened wasn't, and still isn't, your fault." 

"Oh, but it is," he remarked, tears streaming down his face. "If only I'd gone back in there, or I'd thought to go to them straight after-but no. If I'd been faster, they'd still be alive today." 

"Your parents?" Phichit asked, his voice soft. That's what caused Viktor to snap. The reminder, from someone else, that it was his parents who had died because of him. It stung like salt to a wound. 

"Yes, Phichit. My parents. That's right. I fucking messed up back when I was just thirteen and I can't take it back, so now I've had to spend the past fifteen years stuck cooped up in the palace without them, with only my brother and my cousins and aunt and uncle to keep me company. Well, I did have my grandparents, but not any more. We've lost five people in our family now, and I was responsible for the passing of two of them. Have you any idea how that feels? No, of course you don't."

Phichit looked a little taken aback by the prince's random outburst, and rightfully so. It wasn't every day that he was snapped at like that. "I'm so sorry, is there anything I could possibly to do help you?" Viktor shook his head vehemently. "Okay. Well, I'm here for you. Are you alright?" 

When Viktor next spoke, it was through gritted teeth. "I will be, don't you worry your pretty little head about me." He kept his eyes trained on the pool table. "Besides, I live a pretty luxurious life, don't I? I have a library, an arcade, a games room, a swimming pool, an indoor tennis court, a spa, an indoor hot tub, a room where I get to break shit, a cinema, a ton of living spaces, massive grounds to walk around...need I go on? They'll keep my mind occupied, I'm sure." 

"Oh, okay."

They didn't talk for a good fifteen minutes after that, instead focusing on their game of pool. Much to Viktor's surprise (and annoyance), Phichit won, in the end. He kicked the table when the game finished and stared at the window. It looked like it was going to snow again. Maybe it would. 

"Look. It's nothing personal, I shouldn't have snapped at you," Viktor said, out of nowhere, as an awkward silence washed over them. "It's just...my parent's death is a sensitive topic for me, okay?" 

"Okay. Sorry for pushing the matter." 

Viktor turned to Phichit, meeting his gaze. "It's fine," he dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Phichit. Now, what do you say we play Poker? No doubt you know how the game works." For the last twenty minutes or so spent together, that's what they did. The Russian prince was surprised that the twenty-one-year-old hadn't picked the arcade, given his boisterous and excitable nature, but it turned out that he was exhausted from the journey and couldn't be bothered with the bright light and colours of the arcade. He could be bothered, however, to chat Viktor's ear off about anything and everything, producing his whole life story for him. His oversharing was sweet, but annoying. Very annoying. 

Oh, and he took selfies. A lot of them, too. Naturally, this had led to an impromptu photoshoot while they were supposed to be saying goodbye. Viktor put his number into Phichit's phone, the way he'd done with Christophe, and given him his number, too. Phichit had flushed and thanked him, hugging him while he said goodbye. He was kind, definitely, but too full-on. He wouldn't do. 

"Goodbye, Prince Viktor!" Phichit exclaimed, waving, while he left the room. Viktor inclined his head in acknowledgement of him. 

"Goodbye, Phichit. I'm sure we'll cross paths soon." 

"I'm sure we will. See you!" 

"Yeah, see you," the Russian muttered, already pulling out his phone to check who was next on the list and groaning. It was none other than the obnoxious Prince Jean-Jacques Leroy.

How was he going to survive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time for reading this and have a great day! :)


	5. Swings and Roundabouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor goes on a date with J.J., who keeps getting on his nerves, and Otabek, who is in love with his younger brother. How will he possibly cope with it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Next update will be by 23:00 GMT on Wednesday, 17th February! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS-PANIC ATTACKS, MENTIONS OF DEATH AND FIRE, INSULTS, SELF-DEPRECATION, AND SWEARING. 
> 
> Bon appetite! :)

4\. _Date Number Four-Jean-Jacques Leroy_

“I must say, your highness, this isn’t what I was expecting in the slightest.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at Prince Jean-Jacques Leroy. “No? Then what were you expecting, might I ask? Gold pianos? Singing water fountains? A hundred and one marble statues of my family members throughout the years? A huge, indoor water slide? A Japanese toilet that plays music and flushes while you’re using it, so nobody can hear you go? This is not Canada, this is Russia, and things are different over here than they are over there. You would do well to remember that.”

J.J rolled his eyes. “We have some of that at home,” he began, smirking. _Of course, they do,_ Viktor thought, groaning inwardly. “But that’s not quite what I meant,” he added, his eyes glinting with mischief. Again, he was filled with the urge to punch him, but resisted.

“Oh, yeah? Then, what did you mean, exactly?”

J.J. looked bored. “I expected it to be grander, more glamorous. I mean, this arcade is nice and all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s hardly the type of place fitting for royalty now, is it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he practically growled. J.J. backed up, his hands in the air in a defensive manner.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down, your royal highness. I mean no harm, no malice, no ill will to you or your family. But it is curious. I mean, you’ve spent the last fifteen years trapped away in this palace, have you not?”

Viktor nodded, his patience beginning to slip already. They’d only been on this arcade date for ten minutes; J.J. really knew how to charm a guy, huh? “Yes, I have. It was for the best. For my own safety.”

J.J. tutted in a patronising way that wasn’t even attempting at being sympathetic towards him or his situation. “Was it, now? Because I believe what’s happened to your family throughout the years has either been within these grounds, or not far from them. Am I not correct in saying that?”

Viktor’s fist curled into a ball. He knew that this man was annoying, knew that he liked to test people and push their buttons as much as was physically possible, but this time, he had taken it too far. Nobody spoke of his family members like that, so offhandedly, like they were some broken ornaments or objects or possessions. _Nobody._

 _How dare he._ How dare he! The audacity of it all was enough to make his head swim. Everybody knew that discussing deceased loved ones was a sensitive topic for literally anybody in any situation, but most of the Western world was aware of what had happened to Viktor’s aunt Olga twenty years ago, knew about the fire that had tragically killed his parents, learnt of the slow, natural deaths of both of his paternal grandparents. Evidently, J.J. knew what he was doing, and he was playing nasty. Nastier than anyone else he’d ever encountered, that was. Despite being bisexual, he was Catholic, too, as far as the Russian man recalled, so he was hardly acting like a child of God, a point that maybe he would bring up just to irk the guy.

“Factually, you are correct, yes,” Viktor began, his voice shaking with a held-back rage. “But morally, you have no right to say that.”

J.J. tilted his head at him, feigning confusion. “Say what, sorry, your highness?”

Viktor scowled, pushing his hand through his hair. He’d got up at the crack of dawn to prepare to greet his royal guests and to go on dates with them. It was a quarter past one, and he still hadn’t eaten. He was both hungry and tired, a combination that did not work well when coupled with J. J’s teasing in the slightest.

“You were talking about my family disrespectfully, like they’re throwaway objects. They are-weren’t. They weren’t. My father, especially. He was like a soldier; he was the strongest man I ever knew. The strongest man I think any of us ever knew, come to think of it. So, you don’t get to come in here and insult my home and the customs of my home country and my family life.”

J.J. frowned at him, his grey eyes conveying confusion. “What do you mean, Viktor? I didn’t insult the customs of your country, for one- “

“Oh, yes you did. When you first came in, you were comparing the different ways in which we greet people- “

“Isn’t it so weird that Russians give people such firm handshakes and act so polite and formal when they first meet each other?” J.J. wondered out loud, beaming at Viktor, which only served to annoy him further.

“Not really, no. It’s what we are accustomed to doing, after all.”

“How strange, all the same. In Canada, we shake hands, too, but we often laugh a little to diffuse the tension, you know? And I’m from a family of French Canadians, so we tend to kiss each other on each cheek in greeting, too.”

Viktor stifled a yawn. This prince’s weird obsession with himself was boring. “Oh, really?” J.J. nodded. “How lovely.” It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Sighing, J.J. surveyed the room, and decided to have a dance battle with Viktor, only to become infuriated when, ten minutes later, he won. “I demand a rematch!” He insisted furiously. Prince Viktor’s jaw dropped; was this man for real? People like him really existed? He actually wanted a rematch? He must be insane.

“No. I won, fair and square. You’re just a sore loser.”

“No, I’m not! I’m usually not a loser, at all!”

“Is that so?” Viktor’s voice once again took on that bored tone. He couldn’t help it, but this man was seriously getting to him, now.

“Yep! I’ve won twenty trophies, for a variety of sports events, and I’m also in a band, and I attend Toronto University even though I’m a prince, so naturally there’s a lot of security there, entirely for _my_ benefit.”

“How impressive.” Viktor said, sounding distinctly unimpressed.

“Well, what have you done, Mr Nikiforov? Hmm, let’s see, nothing! Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” he taunted. “You had long hair for eight years, as I seem to recall, didn’t you? When I saw you on the television, growing up, it was so long-but you cut it, right? On your eighteenth birthday, of all days! You won’t leave the confines of this palace, even for a date! At what point does it stop being a palace and start becoming a prison, hmm? You stayed in here, trapped, doing _nothing_! So how dare you mock me for actually having done something noteworthy in my lifetime. _How dare you!_ Poor little orphan boy, trapped in his ivory tower with his stupid little baby brother and his cousins, and granny and grandpa sat on the throne, and now it’s auntie Lilia and uncle Yakov, all because a certain _someone_ is too much of a fucking coward to take his rightful place on the throne, following on from his parent’s death. Most people would have assumed the throne at the age of thirteen, with their grandparents and families working as their guardians. Or they would have taken the throne at eighteen. It’s been a decade since then, Viktor. Wake up! You’re getting old, now. What are you so scared of? Sitting in the place where your parents should have been? They’re _dead_ , Viktor. Dead! When will you get over yourself and just realise that, already? Huh?” 

That was it. He’d had enough. J.J. had been skating on thin ice as it was, but now, he was done. Viktor snapped.

“No, I didn’t assume my position on the throne at thirteen, that’s right! You know why? You know the real reason why I didn’t take over as soon as plausibly possible? No, you don’t, because it’s a private matter, a personal matter, a family matter, actually. The real reason why I couldn’t do that is because my grandfather, Nikolai, ordered it to be so. That’s right. He did! He claimed that a thirteen-year-old boy who’d been traumatised-yes, you heard me correctly, _traumatised_ -by the early death of his parents could not be in a fit state to rule. Do you know how many years of therapy it took until I could finally feel like myself again? Five, J.J., it took five years! Then, I cut my hair. I felt free, you know, for a bit. Happy, almost. Yet, adult responsibilities were soon thrust upon me and my childhood had ended. Actually, no. My childhood ended the day my parents died, when I couldn’t save them from that dreadful fire that ravaged our tent in the night. The guards were gone. We were alone. I was next door to my baby brother. I managed to save him that night, but not my parents. _Not my parents_. Do you even have so much as the slightest idea how that feels? The _guilt,_ knowing I could have rescued them, and I didn’t. That it was too late for them. It eats you alive! I could barely eat, barely sleep, barely function, for nearly a year! It still haunts me to this day, by the way. I will _never_ forget them. The only reason I’m even tolerating you right now is so that I can do my duty to my country in order to honour my parent’s memory. There, I said it! That’s why. That’s the truth. I am fully aware that they are dead, believe me. It hurts every single day, knowing my brother never knew them, that Mila barely did, because of me. Because of my own personal failure. I let them down that night, but I am determined to never let my strong, noble parents down ever again! So, don’t you _dare_ attack me and use my past against me ever again, or you’re kicked out of this palace that you don’t even seem to like anyway, you understand me?”

He was breathless by the time he’d finished his rant, and his head was swimming. He felt like he was underwater, for some reason, but he couldn’t explain why. Tears were openly streaming down his face, and all of his former composure was lost. His hair was a mess, as was his outfit. Hewas a mess. An emotional wreck. His vision was blurred, and J.J.'s voice sounded distant. All that he knew was that he couldn't breathe. _Fuck._ Why couldn't he breathe? 

"Your royal highness? Your royal highness, I need you to stop clutching at your throat, please-and gasping like that. Please. Come on, breath in and out with me. In for five seconds, out for five-there, you've done it. No, don't try to stand up, stay there, rest. You're not injured, are you? No? Good. Okay, keep breathing with me. In, and out. That's it. Rinse and repeat. More and more. Alright, well, you seem to have got the hang of it now. Perfect. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-just keep breathing, no, don't try to talk. Just rest. There we go, you're almost breathing properly again. Almost there, your royal highness, you're almost there." 

Viktor followed his instructions. In, and out. Breathing in, and out. Slowly, his senses came back to him. He wiped his sleeve across his face and squinted, his vision becoming clearer. Prince J.J. was knelt in front of him, copying the breathing movements that he was doing, his eyes wide with fear and his own hair tangled. He seemed terrified. 

"You-" he started, gasping for air. "My parents, my _wonderful_ parents-I might have spent most of my life without them, but what I remember-so good to me, so kind-made me strong, and you-insulted them, insulted _me,_ my family-nobody insults my family-how dare you-why? What did I do to you, huh? Why did they leave me, J.J.? Tell me, please. Why did they go? It isn't fair," he wailed. "It isn't fair." 

"No, it isn't," J.J. agreed, calmly. "But it's life, and I need you to understand that life goes on after the death of our loved ones. I've been there. Believe me, I know how painful it can be to lose a loved one. You've got to move on one day, though. That doesn't mean forgetting them, it simply means going ahead and living your life in spite of their deaths." 

Viktor shook his head, struggling to take those words in. "How could I possibly-oh, the _betrayal_ of it all." He remembered something, all of a sudden. "I need to get fixed up before my next date, need to change my clothes, have a nap. Rest." 

"Rest is good. You should probably rest, Viktor." 

"I agree with you. Oh, and you need to leave. Now." J.J. looked alarmed at the prospect of leaving. 

"But, your royal highness, with all due respect, it's been thirty-five minutes. We still have time left together." 

Viktor opened his eyes and glanced straight at him. "No, we don't. Not if I kick you out of the date early." J.J. was the furthest from husband material out of all of them, by far. The Prince of Canada gasped, hurt. 

"But-" 

"Just leave already." His tone left no room for discussion. Viktor shut his eyes again; he was both mentally and physically drained by his day, and it wasn't even two in the afternoon yet. He didn't even care if he was humiliating himself in front of his date-all that mattered to him was that he rested for a bit. Even if that was while curled up in the corner of the Arcade Room. It was fine; he could sleep anywhere. Sometimes, he willed that not be true, but it was. 

Sensing defeat, J.J. gave in and made to leave. "Goodbye, your royal highness. I truly am sorry for what I said." It went without saying that he wouldn't be forgiven for it any time soon. 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Viktor murmured, in response. That being said, J.J. waved and walked to the door. 

"It's J.J. Style!" he swore he could hear the man exclaim while he left. Shaking his head to himself, Viktor checked his watch. Half an hour until his date with Otabek. 

Today was going well so far, wasn't it? 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_5\. Date Number Five-Otabek Altin_

"So, you really think that you can help me?" "

“I can certainly try,” Viktor responded, taking a careful sip of his coffee. “Trust me, I know my brother better than anyone else in this world.”

Otabek nodded. “I understand that. I’m close with my sisters.”

“Remind me what they’re called, again?” Viktor prompted him, leaning forward in anticipation of his response.

“Aisha, who’s fourteen, Rayana, who’s eleven, and Danata-she’s seven.”

“I see.”

Otabek tapped his fingers on the table, full of nervous energy. “It’s very generous of you to do this, your royal highness.”

Not one to take a compliment on board easily, Viktor brushed off his good deed as though it was meaningless, or nothing much. “It’s no problem, Otabek. In fact, it’s the least I can do for you. Truthfully, I think that my brother has his eye on you, too, and I don’t want to get in between that, so I figured that, if I’m in a position in which I can help bring you both together, why not do so?” He paused, letting his words sink in. “That being said, though, if you break his heart, you’ll be dead meat, are we clear on that?” He'd realised, not long after mentioning Yuri's crush on Beka, that he had promised not to tell, but this was for good intents and purposes, so it was fine, he decided.

The Prince of Kazakhstan swallowed thickly, his eyes wide. “Yes, your highness. Crystal clear.”

He sat back, relaxing into his chair, his shoulders less tense than they had been before. The little bohemian café, situated in the little square between sections of the palace, was a good choice to have picked. It had coffee, cake, sandwiches, anything he desired, really. Nothing they couldn’t do for the precious, beloved, first-in line for the throne, Prince Viktor Nikiforov. Especially after his panic attack earlier that day. Word has spread like wildfire throughout the palace, and he'd been allocated time to change and rest before his next date because of this. Yakov had been slightly concerned, as had Lilia, but once he'd reassured them (for the thousandth time, it felt like) that he'd be absolutely fine, they'd finally let him go. Hence, here he was, on a lunch date, with a national hero, and his brother's crush, Otabek Altin. 

“Good. My brother deserves only the best, you know. He is unfortunate enough that he has only ever known life in these palace walls.”

Otabek bowed his head. “I know, your royal highness. I cannot imagine how difficult life here has been for both of you.”

So, he was an empathetic, kind person. That was a green flag, for sure. For Yuri, that was. Not him. He was trying his best to ensure that both of them managed to get into a relationship with each other. Some people would probably cite that it was none of his business, but he was helping out, here. Besides, he’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t at least a little bit fun, getting involved with such matters.

"Indeed, it has been. He has led a very sheltered life thus far. He knows nothing of dating, love, heartbreak, relationships or even of real friendships. His only friends here are our cousins, Mila and Georgi, and one or two of the personal assistants he talks to on occasion, but they don't really count." He sighed and stirred his drink, blowing on it to cool it down. It was still too hot. He put it down. "I'd recommend walking before you run, Altin. Befriend him first. Then, see how it goes. I reckon he's as smitten as you are." 

Otabek flushed. "Really?" 

"Really." Viktor chuckled. "He never stops talking about you. I'm aware that you've spoken at parties, multiple times before, and you have each other's phone numbers and social media handles. Is that correct?" 

"Yes, your highness. That is correct." Viktor appeared suitably impressed. 

"That's a definite start. You've got a good chance of things progressing between you, if that's the case. Now, tell me. What are your intentions with my younger brother?" 

Otabek scowled, taken aback by the blunt and sudden question. "What are you implying?" 

"Nothing, nothing," Viktor replied, his voice as cool as ice. "I'm just wondering, that's all. I am entitled to know." 

"I suppose you're right," the younger of the two conceded, sipping at his own drink. "I only intend to make him happy. He's beautiful-his eyes are soulful, and expressive, and stunning. He looks like an angel-" 

"I can assure you, he certainly doesn't act like one," Viktor muttered darkly. Otabek laughed. 

"I'm sure. But still, he's funny, and sweet, and kind-hearted. He's a fun and interesting person to be around, and a very talented dancer." Viktor's eyes widened as he imagined his relatively innocent sixteen-year-old brother, dancing with the Hero of Kazakhstan. 

"You've danced together before?" 

The Prince of Kazakhstan scratched the back of his neck, staring down at the table in front of him. "Um, yeah. Once. Nothing bad, I promise, your highness. My intentions with him are only pure. We had a dance competition, and he won." He smiled at the memory, his eyes glazed over. It seemed like they were both far gone for each other. 

"Right. Well, I can understand that it may have been hard coming here and attempting to win _my_ hand in marriage, in that case, when it is not me you desire, but my brother."

"You could say that, yeah," the nineteen-year-old mumbled into his latte. "It has been an honour getting to know you, though, and come to your wonderful Kingdom, your highness. I shall be honoured to stay here as your esteemed guest." Polite, too. Good. The acts of rebellion he'd heard of were most likely minimal, then. 

"It is my pleasure," Viktor told him, meaning it. "Anyway, do tell me more about this family of yours." 

He let Otabek's chatter wash over him while he though about his final date, Katsuki Yuuri. He'd been thinking about him all day, even when on dates with other people. Those eyes had not escaped his mind for hours; he felt as though he was going insane. It was not a good feeling to have, in his opinion. Yuuri had made him feel like nobody else had so far, and they hadn't even been on a date together yet. Only spoken for one brief, thrilling exchange. If the butterflies in his stomach were anything to go by, he had fallen, hard. 

He couldn't wait until he could see him again. Fortunately for him, Prince Viktor Nikiforov didn't have long to wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this, sorry if it dragged on or got a bit dark at times. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter below! How do you think his date with Yuuri will go down? What do you think will happen next? Tell me in the comment section. 
> 
> Stay safe and have a great day! XX


	6. One In A Million

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor finally goes on a date with the mysterious Yuuri Katsuki and decides who he's going to end up marrying...will Yuuri manage to win his heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the late update! I will update it when and where I can, but I can't make any guarantees about my schedule because I have my studies and other writing and family life and general life to focus on too, I hope you all understand! Anyway, this will still be uploaded 2-3 times a week, but on random days most likely. Thanks for your patience, I hope you enjoy this new chapter.
> 
> PS-TRIGGER WARNINGS-SWEARING, MENTION OF MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, MENTIONS OF DEATH.

"Are you looking forward to your final date, your highness?" 

Viktor nodded at Yuuko, albeit wearily. "Yes. Even though it's been a long day so far, and not the best by all accounts, I'm intrigued to see what he has planned for our date together." 

Yuuko clapped her hands, appearing even more excited than Viktor himself. "Oh, this is so great! I've heard that he's a really sweet guy, and he knows how to treat someone right. He's been out with both guys and girls before, apparently." 

Viktor swallowed down the sudden wave of jealousy that washed over him at the thought of Yuuri dating anybody other than him. "Cool. So, he's bisexual then?" 

Yuuko nodded. "Yes, I think so. He's a really sweet guy, I promise," she assured him, her eyes bright. "Takeshi has met him several times before, and he was nothing short of wonderful, apparently. Plus, he's really hot," she added with a wink. Viktor flushed; there was truth in her words. It was something that he could not resist; the man was very good-looking, and this didn't help Viktor battle the magnetic pull that was drawing him towards this mysterious man. 

"Well, I hope he's husband material, in that case," Viktor muttered, while Yuuko adjusted his tie for him. 

"He probably will be," she exclaimed, beaming up at him. "I mean, look at him!" 

Viktor laughed; she had a point. "Anybody would be better than Prince Jean-Jacques Leroy." He paused, knowing that he could trust her. "Or, as I like to call him, J.J." 

Yuuko frowned at the nickname. "Was he really that bad?" 

"Yep. He kept trying to get to me, to infuriate and upset me. It worked. I ended up nearly having a panic attack because of that guy. He disrespected my parents, and was rude to me." 

"That simply won't do," Yuuko responded, her voice a perfect imitation of Lilia's. They both burst out laughing. "Seriously, though. He sounds like a jerk." 

Viktor thought back to the way J.J. had deliberately taunted him, calling him Rapunzel and turning something that had been a witty inside joke that he shared with his cousin into something sour and bitter, something that left a nasty taste in his mouth. He sighed. "He was, but I won't let people like him ruin my day. Besides, I've got one last date to look forward to, so what have I got to lose?" Yuuko grinned at him again, pleased that he wasn't letting other people bring him down the way he so often did.

"Exactly," she said, spraying him in cologne while he slicked his hair back. "Go out there and enjoy yourself, Viktor." 

So, that's what he did. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Your royal highness,” Yuuri greeted him, bowing low. Viktor laughed at the formality.

“Please,” he insisted with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Call me Viktor.”

Yuuri swallowed, his nerves showing. _That’s so cute,_ Viktor thought to himself. _How is it possible for one human being to be so adorable?_ It was beyond him, personally.

“If you would like me to, your highness, then I will, of course,” Yuuri replied, a small smile creeping its way onto his face. Viktor could feel himself falling further and further. He thought back to Yakov and Lilia’s stern lectures, and equally as stern faces. The disapproving looks and insults thrown his way when he dared to mention the possibility of love. His duty to his country. Falling in love wouldn’t do at all.

“Yes, that is what I would like you to do, please,” he replied, icily as he could. Yuuri raised an eyebrow in surprise at his hot-and-cold behaviour, but didn’t question it.

“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll do as you say, then, Viktor.” The older of the two men bit down on his lip, hard, trying his best to control his reaction to the Japanese prince saying his name.

“Good,” he responded, glancing around him and drinking in his surroundings. Yuuri had said that they were meeting outside, but hadn’t specified anything else, meaning that he didn’t have any details to work on. “Yuuri, tell me. What are we doing outside, if I may ask?”

Yuuri smiled again, his dark eyes lighting up with joy. Now, that was a side of him that Viktor enjoyed seeing, it had to be admitted. “It’s a surprise. Come on, Viktor. Follow me.” With that being said, he grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. The Russian Prince let out a squeak at the action; this man was stronger than he looked. He supposed that he would have to trust whatever he had planned was good, and would interest him. If the mischievous glint in his eye was anything to go by, either it was something terrible or something brilliant.

Truth be told, Viktor wasn’t sure if he wanted to know which one it was.

“Can I trust you?” he joked, albeit feebly. Yuuri chuckled, his laughter reminiscent of a windchime blowing in the wind. It was a beautiful sound.

“Of course, you can, don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed. “I’m hardly going to kill you, am I?”

Viktor shrugged. “I don’t know what your intentions are.”

“Oh, they’re pure, I promise.” When his nerves disappeared, they gave way to boldness. Confidence. He liked it. It suited him.

“Ah, well. That’s good to know,” Viktor said, grinning. The route they were taking started to look familiar-the trees that they passed all looked like the exact same ones Viktor encountered whenever he was on a walk around the grounds to Yuuko, like when he had stormed out of the family meeting that he had been in a few weeks ago. Could Yuuri’s date idea possible be-? No, surely not. Unless it was?

If it was what Viktor suspected that it was, then perhaps he had found himself some good husband material, after all.

Yuuri turned to him with a dazzling smile that nearly took his breath away. He was pretty sure that it was illegal to be that good-looking. His dark hair, although well-kept, looked fluffy and soft; he felt a sudden, compulsive urge to run his hands through it, but of course, he didn’t. His amber eyes were soft yet filled with determination and joy, so expressive and soulful that it took him by surprise. Whoever had dated Yuuri in the past had been very lucky, that much was for certain.

“I promise you’ll like what I have in store for you,” he reassured him, his voice low, reaching out to grab Viktor’s hand. Before he could protest or move it away, he gave it a warm squeeze, accompanied with a smile that was just as warm, and set the Russian man’s heart on fire in the process. Whoa. He didn’t know that he would possibly be able to feel things about other people so intensely, but here he was nonetheless, all flustered over the Prince of Japan, of all people. What had his life come to? He was supposed to be untouchable, icy, cold, strong. Like an ice sculpture, not a real-life, flawed human being. Yet here he was, in this moment, so vulnerable to Yuuri’s charms that it made his head swim.

“Will I, now?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than it had been previously. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Do you really think so?” he asked, his voice sounding more normal this time, thankfully.

Yuuri nodded, his self-confidence beginning to show. “Yes, I promise, your hi-I mean, Viktor. It’s something that I know you’ll like for a fact. I’ve done my research, you know.”

Viktor’s heart sped up. What did Yuuri mean by that? What kind of research had he been conducting on him, and how? Did he mean, like, a quick Google search of him? Or did he mean something else entirely? Had they ever met before? He believed that they hadn’t, or else it would have stuck out in his mind as being a rather memorable occasion. No doubt about it. So, why was he being so elusive? It did sound a bit creepy, he had to admit it-but if it was for their date, then surely it could be perceived as sweet and endearing, right?

“What do you mean by that?”

Yuuri stopped in his tracks and turned around to face him fully, more beautiful than ever, somehow. “What I mean, is that I am aware that you happen to enjoy ice skating, Mr Nikiforov.”

He couldn’t help but let out a gasp. How did he know? This wasn’t a fact that you could find out by searching his name up online, it was private and personal. Who had he spoken to? When? How did he know exactly how much skating meant to him? “How did you-?”

Yuuri smirked, evidently glad that he had the upper hand in this conversation. “Well, Viktor. You know how your family likes to hold parties and balls and galas on the odd, rare occasion?” In response to this, he nodded, rendered speechless. “It just so happens that, at your twenty-fifth birthday party, myself and my good friend, Prince Phichit Chulanont of Thailand, were present.”

Oh. That made a lot of sense, actually. So, _he_ had been the dark-haired, attractive stranger that had caught his attention, caught his eye, the one who’d been stood with him, the person he’d been too afraid to converse with out of the fear of completely and utterly humiliating himself in front of him. “Oh, right. You were the dark-haired guy he was stood with practically all night, then?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah, I was. Sorry about what happened there, by the way. I know that it wasn’t my fault, but I was responsible for looking after him, considering that I’m three years his senior. I really shouldn’t have let him drink so much, but what’s done is done, I suppose. Anyway, he wasn’t the only drunk one at the party at night, though, was he?”

Viktor frowned, trying to recall the night in his head. What did he mean by that? Who else had been drunk there? He didn’t know that anybody else had been, but they must have been, right? “I’m afraid that I’m not following. Who do you mean? What are you talking about, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s eyes brightened even further, shining out like diamonds. He was too beautiful to describe in words, this man. He really was. “Viktor, you’re telling me that you don’t remember getting drunk and approaching me after Phichit left the party?”

His heart dropped in his stomach. Sometimes, at parties, he liked to drink as a form of escapism. He didn’t realise that perhaps, he’d got carried away too, and done something regrettable or embarrassing or made a huge mistake. Whatever Yuuri had to say about the matter probably didn’t bode well for his reputation, to say the least.

“No, I don’t remember, as a matter of fact. What did I do, exactly?” Panic set in as he remembered that he had a tendency to go off the rails whenever he became inebriated.

Yuuri chuckled, and his eyes took on a distant and faraway gaze while he remembered what had gone down at Viktor’s birthday party three years prior. “You approached me and began flirting with me, calling me all sorts of flattering names.”

 _Oh, shit._ “What like?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Yuuri said, putting a finger to his lips and pretending to think about it. “Hot. Sexy. Fit.” He held up a finger for each one, causing the older prince to wince. Oh no. He had a reputation to uphold, but one night of drinking might have disgraced him without him even knowing it.

“I apologise for my misconduct. To be fair, I was speaking the truth.” He took in Yuuri’s sudden blush with delight. “Did I do anything else that could be deemed particularly noteworthy?”

“We danced together. And you kept telling me about how much you loved ice-skating, how you’d like to see me dancing on the ice some time because you though it would be, and I quote, ‘super, super sexy’.”

Viktor buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Oh, God. What have I done? I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I had no idea…”

Slowly, Yuuri prised Viktor’s hands away from his face, his touch electric, causing a whole-body shiver. Huh. He’d never reacted to anybody’s touch like that before-that was weird. “Viktor, look at me.” He obliged him, icy blue eyes meeting chocolate brown ones, the feeling both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. “It’s fine, honestly. I found it quite funny, and cute. Endearing in a way, too.”

Viktor’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Well, thank God for that. And at least it means I get to have a half-decent date, for once.”

Yuuri tilted his head in confusion. “Why, what were the others like?”

“Believe me, Yuuri, you don’t want to know…”

“Oh, but I do,” came his answer. Viktor rolled his eyes and shook his head, but reluctantly explained all of his five previous dates regardless. By the time he was finished, a full ten minutes later, shock was written all over Yuri’s gorgeous face.

“Whoa, I had no idea that this whole process would be so stressful and upsetting for you. I’m sorry to hear that, Viktor.”

He shrugged it off. “It’s fine, honestly. I’m over it now.”

“But still-you were with someone cold and unfriendly, you were with someone who irritated you, then you were with someone who acted obnoxiously towards you and upset you to the point in which you had a panic attack, and your most recent date was with somebody who’s in love with your brother…that mustn’t have been easy to deal with. Chris sounds nice, though.”

Viktor hummed in agreement. “He is, yes. I look forward to seeing him again. For the others, though, I can’t exactly say the same thing. Not that Phichit and Otabek weren’t nice, of course, it’s just- “

“You weren’t compatible,” Yuuri interrupted him, with a knowing look in his eye. “There was no spark between you.”

“Huh. That’s right. How did you know that?”

Yuuri smiled at him again, and it was a moment so sweet and tender, that Viktor wanted to relive it over and over again. “I guess I’m just magic.”

Viktor laughed, softly. “I guess you are. Anyway, are we getting on that ice or what?”

“Or what?” Yuuri responded, taunting him. Viktor folded his arms, obstinately, refusing to budge. Yuuri took his hand and lead him over to the lake. “Come on. Let me show you how it’s really done.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I told you already, I can balance by myself!" 

Yuuri giggled, the sound filling Viktor's heart with warmth. "Sure you can, Viktor. Sure you can." 

Viktor rolled his eyes in fond exasperation of the man in front of him. "I can actually, I'll have you know." 

Yuuri pouted at him, then, and he was reminded once again of how adorable this guy was. "But now I don't have any excuse to wrap an arm around your waist." 

Viktor's heart skipped not one, but several beats upon hearing this. Determined not to let this show, he just raised an eyebrow at him, acting as unimpressed as possible. "Oh well. Maybe it'll teach you to be a gentleman, in the future." 

“Maybe,” Yuuri conceded. “Maybe not. We’ll see.”

Viktor laughed. “I’ve been doing this for years, you know.”

“Oh, yeah? So have I. Ever since I was a young boy, actually.”

“Really? Is that so?”

Yuuri spun around and around, before entering a complicated-looking jump and landing it perfectly. Viktor applauded him.

“Yes, I’ve been performing for people since I was young, too.”

Viktor frowned. “If you’re a prince, then why the hell would you need to perform?”

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his skin flushed pink. “My family have always been about working hard,” he explained. “So, they wanted us to do _something_ to prove that we’re worth the lavish lifestyle we’ve been afforded. For Mari, my older sister, her thing is playing the violin. Mine happens to be ice skating. I’ve performed all over the world, under different names and all sorts, to ensure that people wouldn’t suspect it’s me, the prince of Japan.”

Viktor’s eyes widened as he remembered something significant from his childhood. “Yuuri,” he asked, a little breathless, “you said you’ve been around the world?”

Yuuri nodded. “Hmm. Yeah, that’s right.”

“Have you ever been to Russia, by any chance?”

He nodded. “Several times, actually. On one occasion, I was around eight. On the other, I was seventeen- “

“I think I saw you,” Viktor blurted out, interrupting him. “When you were eight. I was twelve. My younger brother, Yuri, was a few months old.”

Yuuri frowned as he attempted to recall the details that Viktor was describing. “I remember the King and Queen being there,” he muttered. “They were holding a baby in their arms-well, the Queen was, anyway. Not the King. He had his hand on a boy’s shoulder. The boy must have been around eleven or twelve- “

“That was me,” Viktor replied, unable to believe it. It seemed impossible to process. “You saw me. Yuuri, the whole reason I started to ice skate-I mean, after my parent’s death, it became a form of escapism for me, and ultimately my salvation. Ice skating saved my life. And you-you’re the reason why I started to ice skate. You are the reason I’m here today.”

Yuuri pulled a face, not quite following his lead. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, Viktor? I saved your life?”

Viktor nodded. “Yes. I saw how gracefully you danced on the ice, how you were one with it. It was pure magic. You were pure magic. I loved that performance. It’s what inspired me to start skating-I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you. Thank you. I owe you the world.”

Yuuri shook his head vehemently. “No, Viktor. You don’t owe me a single thing, you understand me? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered-and mostly so, so glad that you’re still here today-but how can you put this all down to my performance? You saved yourself, Viktor.”

He had a point, but still. That performance had changed his life. “Maybe, but you still helped me, without even meaning to. So, thank you for that,” he said, smiling at the prince tentatively. Yuuri smiled back at him.

“You’re welcome, Viktor. Even though I don’t feel like I can take credit for all that, I’m honoured. Shall we get back to ice skating?”

Viktor nodded, and they carried on.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_When he was on the ice, he felt as though he was floating, flying, magical, ethereal, perfect. The world was a beautiful place, and Prince Viktor Nikiforov was sure as hell glad to be in it. His movements were fluid and light, this came easily to him, as easily as breathing. This was perfect. He was perfect. Yuuri was perfect too, swan-like and graceful and in control of himself. That beautiful self-control was truly something to be admired. Here was a man who could entrance people, perform a little magic on him. Like a fairy, almost, although that was a ridiculous thought, of course. Still, he was like a magnet, drawing people in and pulling them into his world of beauty and splendour and wonder. Yuuri and the ice moved as one, and Viktor moved in perfect synchronicity with each other, like this was fate, like this was their destiny, like it was meant-to-be. As if his life was a fairy tale, and this was his happily-ever-after._

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

After a while, things had to stop. The dates were only supposed to last for an hour, at the end of the day. He was disappointed to have to see Yuuri leave, but it was what had to be done.

“I really enjoyed our date today, Yuuri,” he exclaimed, while they walked away from the lake and through the grounds of the palace. “It was as close to perfect as I think any first date could possibly get.”

Yuuri’s eyes lit up at those words. “You mean that?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not just saying that, either?”

“No.”

Yuuri let out a relieved sigh at his reassurances. “Thank goodness for that. I felt really connected to you, Viktor. Like we moved as one, in our own world.”

Viktor couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face if he tried. “That describes how I felt perfectly, Yuuri. You really are special, you know that?”

Yuuri blushed and stared at the ground, unable to formulate a response to what had just been said to him. “Thanks, Viktor. That means a lot to me. Whoever you choose will be extremely lucky, for the record.”

Wow. He was just such a kind and considerate person, and one he could envision himself being with for a long time. He was husband material, no doubt about that. This man was one in a million. Who cared if he fell in love, or if that made him weak? If being around Yuuri made him weak, then he didn’t want to be strong, put it that way.

“Thank you. I have a lot to think about.”

Yuuri looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He looked nervous again. “I’m sure you do.”

“I’ll see you around, Yuuri,” he whispered, his façade now completely broken, moving forward at the last minute to envelop him in a hug. His mind on the matter was made up, now. No doubt about it.

“I’ll see you around, Viktor,” a shocked Yuuri responded, hugging him back. They hugged for longer than two people who were just friends would do, and Viktor watched him retreat, walking away to the quarters where the guest bedrooms would be located. Viktor watched while the man he had just fallen in love with walked away from him, his smile a mile wide. It was official. Regardless of what his aunt and uncle had to say in the matter, this was his own decision to make as a grown adult. He was going to do this.

He was going to marry Katsuki Yuuri, and nobody could stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time for reading this, your support genuinely means the world to me and I love you all! Stay safe and look after yourselves out there. What do you think will happen next? Comment below with your thoughts and have a great day! :) Xx


	7. A Dark History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilia attempts to dictate who Viktor will be with, based off political matters and affairs, but Viktor is having none of it, but he soon gets on to the sensitive topic of his parent's death and finds himself revisiting that life-changing night in his head. Will Lilia let him be with Yuuri, or is he destined to be tied down in a loveless marriage for all of eternity?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DJ Khaled voice*: Another one! 
> 
> Hi, so this wasn't going to be a chapter long, but oh well! I also didn't expect to be updating for the second time today, but here we are! I hope you enjoy this chapter, but just be aware that it is pretty dark and delves into Viktor's past. If this kind of thing triggers you, please don't read it! Look after yourself xx 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS-SWEARING-DEATH-FIRE-MENTIONED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA-SELF-DEPRECATION-GUILT-MENTIONS OF CARBON MONOXIDE POISONING-MILD INJURIES-ARGUMENTS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

"What the fuck do you mean, 'no'?" 

Lilia sighed and massaged her forehead, visibly stressed out by the situation. When she snapped her eyes open to meet her nephew's gaze, the look in her eyes was adamant and unrelenting. "I said what I said, Vitya." 

"But, _Tetya-"_

She rolled her eyes and raised a dismissive hand in the air. "Stop it with the childish whining, this instant." 

"But-"

"I mean it. And the pout, too. It's not going to work on me, you know." 

Viktor stomped his foot on the ground and glared at her with clear disgust written all over his face. "THIS IS SO, SO UNFAIR! I DON'T GET WHY YOU'RE DOING THIS TO ME! I HATE YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE THE BLOODY QUEEN OF RUSSIA, I AM VIKTOR NIKIFOROV AND I WILL DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT WITH MY LIFE!" 

In response to this, his aunt faked a yawn and feigned a bored expression. "Are you quite done, Viktor?" 

He let out an undignified snort at this. "Like hell I am! I don't understand-you said I could choose my husband myself!" 

She cleared her throat. "I did. However, our relations with Japan are strong. Politically speaking-" 

"Who said anything about politics?" His eyes were watery. "This is about my future and my happiness, aunt Lilia! Why can't you just hear me out already?" 

Rolling her eyes, Lilia stood up and moved away from her throne and towards him. "I have been, my dear Vitya. For the last ten minutes." 

Furious, he pushed her away. Just who did she think she was, treating him like that? She wasn't his mother! "Don't you DARE 'dear Vitya' me right now! Not when I'm so upset at you. Can't you at least _try_ to have some compassion and see it from my point of view?" 

She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "I am. And I think it would be a shame to let such an opportunity, one to help unify Canada and Russia, go to waste. Thailand and South Korea-they're fine. Sweden is, too. Things could obviously be better with Kazakhstan, but in light of recent events-" 

Yuri, who had been slumped on his throne while scrolling aimlessly through his phone, sat up straight and stared straight at her. "What recent events?!" he demanded, suspecting immediately that it had something to do with Otabek himself. Regardless of this, Lilia ignored him and continued speaking to Viktor, as though his younger brother wasn't there at all. 

"In light of recent events, I do not think that a marriage between the two of you would be optimal, or the best idea, shall we say. So, that being said, I think the best thing to do, for the sake of your country, would to be marry Jean-Jacques Leroy." 

That was it. He'd had enough. _Enough._ More than enough, come to think of it. Of her stern lectures, of screaming and shouting matches that inevitably ended in doors being slammed and objects being broken and people crying. It was infuriating, and it was really beginning to get to him, now. "No! I refuse to marry him. He was horrible to me about Mama and Papa, you know!" 

This seemed to stop her in her tracks. "What?" 

"He was essentially rubbing it in my face that they were dead, he made out that I was lazy-" 

"He wouldn't be wrong there-"

"Shut up, Yurio! Nobody asked you." 

"That's not even my name." Again, he was ignored in the heat of the moment. 

"He said that?" 

"Yes, and more. He taunted me, calling me 'Rapunzel' because of my hair, and called me a coward for not assuming the throne at the age of thirteen." This seemed to take the woman by surprise, because she sat back down again, a pensive look crossing her face. 

"I see." She paused, weighing up her next words. "But you must push your personal issues and opinions away for the sake of political matters, Viktor. Come on. You're nearly thirty, now. You need to stop being so immature and get over yourself already. Your cousin Georgi is your age, and he would not act in such an unbecoming manner." 

Viktor rolled his eyes in response. "I'm not Georgi, though, and I resent it when you compare us to each other. You know that already, aunt Lilia. You're his mother, at the end of the day. You're not mine." The last words seemed to be the wrong thing to say. He was supposed to be softening Lilia up. Not making her bitter and angry and hurt. But he'd been pushed too far, at this point, and that was one of the only valid arguments he could technically make in such a situation. Not that it made it hurt any less. Lilia may have been the strong, stoic queen of Russia, but she was a human being with feelings and emotions, as well. Perhaps, Viktor would have done well to remember that-yet it was too late to take back what he'd already said to her by that point in time. 

"That I may not be, but your mother isn't here, is she? You know full well what happened to her." 

Viktor ran his hand through his platinum hair, stressed. "Yes, I know what happened to her full well! She's dead, and so is my father, all because of me! It's my fault they're gone in the first place, so how _dare_ you use that against me!" 

Yuri frowned. "What do you mean, it's _your fault?"_

Lilia seemed genuinely shocked by this revelation. "Viktor! Why would you blame yourself personally for such a terrible thing?"

What? Why weren't they agreeing with him? It was all his fault, but nobody was seeing it! It was so frustrating. "Of course I blame myself, it's all my fault and every day I am haunted by the knowledge that if I'd made a different decision that night, then perhaps they would still be here today!" 

Lilia gasped. "How could you possibly say that, Viktor? Without your bravery, your brother wouldn't be alive today. Do you regret saving him?" 

He turned to look at his brother, who was staring at him with wide, emerald eyes, filled with tears. In an instant, he was taken back to the devastating night of the fire. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Mama? Papa? Fire! Fire! Fire!" Viktor shouted, his voice hoarse._

_Smoke filled his lungs, slowly suffocating him. The sound of crackling flames had woken him up; they didn't have a smoke alarm installed, because his mother didn't think they'd needed it. He had to get out of there, and quick. It wouldn't take long for the tent to burn to the ground. It was a wooden tent, one of the portable ones you had to set up, a 'luxury' one. Guards were supposed to be, well, guarding it, but they'd gone out and drunk and passed out somewhere nearby in the forest. The forest was only a few miles away from the palace. Home wasn't far away; his Babushka and Dedushka, and Aunt Lilia and Uncle Yakov were all there with his four-year-old cousin Mila, and his cousin Georgi, who was his age. They would be safe and fine. Him and his parents and younger brother might not be._

_He stumbled out of his bedroom, clicking the red emergency button that was on his bracelet, the one each royal was obliged to wear constantly, just in case something like this had happened. His one-year-old brother was next door to him, in the room adjacent to his; Aleksander and Nikita were further away from them. He could vaguely hear him wailing, and knew what to do in an instant. He rushed into the room, grabbed his brother and ran out of the tent, running further and further away from the site of disaster. Why anybody thought that leaving a one-year-old alone in a room was beyond him, but that was irrelevant now. He needed to put his brother down somewhere where he'd be safe. He'd begun screeching like a banshee, as was his custom and as would be his custom for the next fifteen years of his life and onwards. Panicking, he set him down, concerned that his lungs would be filling up with smoke. Carbon monoxide, Yakov had once called the stuff that poisoned people when they were in fires. He'd called it carbon monoxide poisoning during one of their annual fire drills. It could be deadly. Maybe it still would be._

_All the same, he couldn't concern himself with that. He needed to focus on finding his parents. He tore across the grass, running as fast his thirteen-year-old legs would take him. His own lungs burned, and it was obvious that him and his brother would require immediate medical attention, as soon as was physically possible, but that didn't matter to him in that particular moment as much as waking up his parents did. They needed to leave, otherwise they'd, they would d-_

_It didn't bear thinking about. Tears rolled down his face at the thought of his strong, brave parents dying. He needed to get to them, and fast. After one terrifying, endless minute, he made it back to the tent, which was engulfed in flames at that point. Viktor barrelled in without a second thought, not caring if his skin would burn. It didn't luckily, because he had the good sense to conceal most of his body in an attempt to save his skin, but he would later be treated for minor burns and major trauma. Mental trauma, that was. He didn't deserve to be treated, he insisted, but his Dedushka argued otherwise and his Babushka agreed with him._

_He tore his way through the tent with little regard to his own health and safety, but he started to feel woozy, as though he was going to pass out. "Mat! Otetz! FIRE! GET OUT! PLEASE!" He screamed, his lungs burning up. It occurred to him that he should find his baby brother, make sure that he was alright. Yet, how could he? His parents could die. That was a terrifying concept to him. Panic-stricken, he shot out of the tent to go and find Yuri. When he eventually found him, bundled up in his blankets the way that Viktor had left him, the grass surrounding him, the royal paramedics (who had been parked in trailers less than a mile away) were leant over him; clearly, his emergency button had alerted them._

_"Will he be alright?" he asked urgently, coughing. One of the two paramedics nodded, the one with red hair, as he recalled._

_"You're lucky you left when you did," the other paramedic said, his voice gruff. "This little one here wouldn't have been able to make it otherwise." Well, that was a relief, at least._

_"What about my parents?" He wondered out loud, tugging at the sleeve of one of the paramedics, he wasn't sure which one. His eyes were filling up with tears and he felt dizzy and sick, nothing like the strong man his father had always taught him to be. In that moment, he felt weak. Pathetic. Helpless. Terrified. Nobody answered him. Two other paramedics came running up to survey the scene, and firefighters had turned up on the scene, too. When asked, he pointed in the general direction of where he'd come from, sobbing the whole time. The paramedics assessed him and decided he needed to be taken to hospital for observation, and to check the carbon monoxide hadn't poisoned him._

_"Come on, son," one of them told him, placing an arm around him reassuringly as he led him to the ambulance. "You'll be fine, I promise. Just come with us. Your grandparents and aunt and uncle will be informed of this immediately."_

_Viktor shook his head, not caring about them. "That's not who I want to hear about! I care about my parents, so much! I love them, please tell me they're not going to die!" He was practically in hysterics by then._

_Nobody could truthfully tell him that they weren't going to die._

_"Come on," the other paramedic insisted now, a young woman with bright lipstick on. "We need to take you to the hospital. You've probably got some burns, and you've inhaled a lot of smoke. We need you to hang on, okay? Hang on in there, your royal highness. Hang on. We'll be there before you know it." But of course, that's not what Viktor cared about. Not at all._

_"My parents," he croaked. "I need to see my parents, I need to know that they're okay!" They didn't listen to him, however, and just took him and Yuri away in separate ambulances to the private, luxury wards of the local hospital. He'd been in there before-it was more like a hotel than a hospital, truth be told. They couldn't guarantee that, though, and it broke his heart._

_His heart had been broken ever since that night, and nothing could possibly fix it._

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

It had been discovered, later on, that the cause of the fire had been one of Aleksander's cigarettes going out properly, meaning that the fire had originated in his parent's room. Long story short, the case had been hopeless all along, when it came to the matter of saving them from the fire, and Yuri and Viktor had been very fortunate to escape with their lives and near enough (physically) unscathed. Many people would say it was Aleksander's fault, for smoking, or Nikita's fault, for not having a fire alarm installed. Others would blame Nikolai, who was the one who had allowed the trip to go ahead in the first place, or even Anastasia, who had recommended it in the first place. Some would even go as far as suggesting that it was Yakov's fault, for buying them the not-so-fireproof wooden tent the previous year, or even Lilia, who had booked the trip to ensure that they wouldn't spend their own money on it. 

Not one person blamed Viktor for his parent's demise-except for himself. The guilt ate him alive, every second of every day. It was manageable most of the time, yes, but also inescapable.

"Hello? Earth to Viktor!" Yuri exclaimed, waving a hand in front of his face and projecting him back to the present. 

"Oh, sorry," he murmured, snapped out of his reverie all of a sudden. "No, of course I don't regret saving him," he responded, squeezing his brother's hand. Much to his surprise, he squeezed it back, before letting it go. 

"Then what do you regret?" Lilia questioned, confusion knitting her eerily perfect eyebrows together. 

"I regret not getting my parents out of there quick enough. I should have grabbed Yuri, taken him slightly nearer to the location, but so that he'd still have been safe, and then gone back for my parents. Or gone into their room, woke them up, and then grabbed him." 

"What, and risk him potentially dying from carbon monoxide poisoning?" 

Viktor glanced down at his feet. "Well, no, not exactly. But I let my parents down that night, and I don't want to ever let them down again. I know that, if they were watching over me right now, they'd want me to do what makes me happy. Wouldn't they?" 

Lilia sighed; it had to be admitted that the prince had a point. Not to mention the fact that he'd already been through so much, suffered more in the first thirteen years of his life than most had in forty. The past fifteen years hadn't exactly been a walk in the park for him, either. He must be lonely a lot, being a twenty-eight-year-old trapped in a palace with his family and no love or social life to speak of. It was sad, really. Perhaps he'd end up befriending several of his potential suitors, and political alliances could be forged that way, instead. Keeping this in mind, she inhaled deeply and stared straight into her ward's eyes. 

"Fine," she relented. "I'll allow it. If I'm on board, your uncle will be, too. I promise." 

Viktor glanced up at her, surprised at her sudden change of heart and wondering what had caused it. "You do?" 

She nodded. "I do." 

He grinned at her. "Thanks, auntie. You know how much this means to me!" 

"Hmm. I do. Just, swear to me now that there will be no more displays of juvenile tantrums or anything of the sort?" 

"Of course not," Viktor responded, laughing. "When have I ever done anything like that?" They all burst out laughing, then, knowing full well how much of a drama queen the prince was. The twenty-eight-year-old was over the moon; he couldn't wait to tell Yuuri the good news. Finally, something in his life was going right for him. Did he deserve this much happiness? He didn't know, but he'd happily welcome it, irrespective of that. His parents would have wanted that for him, after all, despite everything. He just knew it. Wow. He was going to be married to Yuuri! It felt like surreal, as though this wasn't reality. Obviously, it was. But still! Not only had he been fortunate enough to find someone so perfect for him, he was literally going to be spending the rest of his life with him. He could think of nothing better. 

Smiling to himself, he slipped out of the room, but not before he caught a snippet of Yuri's conversation with Lilia. His brother was no different when it came to the matter of dramatics, and made his own demands as soon as Viktor's had been met.

"By the way, _Tetya,_ what are the recent events that you spoke of earlier, regarding Kazakhstan?" 

Lilia, who had phone calls to make about Viktor's choice of husband, just ignored him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this impromptu little chapter update! Sorry it was so dark, the next chapter should hopefully be a little lighter! Thanks for taking the time to read this and for your support, I appreciate it a lot! Have an amazing day! :)


	8. Familial Disputes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to be arguing with each other, from Yurio and Viktor, to Lilia and Yakov, even to Mila and Georgi-can nobody in the Nikiforov family get along for once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I really liked the idea of writing a family-centric chapter, so that is what I did. I'm sorry I haven't updated for so long, I've had exams this week so everything has been a bit hectic and busy for me recently, what with it being the first week back and everything, but I digress. New updates can be expected tomorrow night and Sunday night, too. There might be another update tonight if I'm quick enough, but we'll see! Enjoy! :) 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS-MENTIONS OF DEATH-GUILT, SELF-DEPRECATION-ARGUMENTS-MENTIONS OF FIRE-MILD NSFW IMPLICATIONS (NOTHING HAPPENS)-ANGER-FOOD-SWEARING.

_"Yuri, no."_

"Yuri, yes, more like. I can do whatever the hell I want, Viktor. It's as though you've forgotten that I'm not a baby anymore." 

Viktor sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. It was his responsibility and duty to look out for his brother, and make sure that he didn't get hurt. But, he sure as hell didn't make his job any easier for him, to put it lightly. Over the past few days, he'd been a complete and utter nuisance. When each member of the family had spoken to his fiancé Yuuri-he was still in disbelief about that-,and he was getting the blessing of the King and Queen to marry their beloved nephew, Viktor's younger brother had been nothing but rude and disrespectful towards the man. It was frustrating, and he didn't know why he was doing it.

"I haven't forgotten that in the slightest, Yurio. You know how much I love you-" 

"Bullshit." 

Viktor blinked several times, like a deer caught in headlights. "Excuse me?!" he exclaimed, not bothering to chastise him for his language for once. 

Yuri rolled his eyes. "It's just a tactic used to make me believe in whatever you say, by appealing to my emotions. It's supposed to give you more credibility, in my eyes. It's not going to work, for the record. I know you love me, but you don't need to say it. It's an excuse that you're using to get away with talking to me like I'm still a child, that's all. Nothing more than that." 

Where was he getting this stuff from? It confused Viktor to no end. "No, it's not about that, Yuri. You don't understand. I care about you, and that's why I want to try my best to protect you from what's out there." 

Yuri laughed at that. "What's out there? I think you're forgetting something, old man. I haven't left this palace for _f_ _ifteen years,_ and neither have you. For me, that's my whole life time. What could be so bad, that I'd need shielding or protecting from it, huh? What's worse than being practically incarcerated for fifteen years?" 

Viktor scowled at him. "A lot, actually. Like car crashes. Like fires-" 

"Fires can start anywhere," Yuri pointed out, flicking at a broken nail on his finger in a bored manner. "What's your point?" 

Viktor sighed again, fed up of having these quarrels with his younger brother all the time. "My point is, that it's my job to look after and protect you." 

Yuri rolled his eyes at him, the blatant sign of disrespect only serving to infuriate Viktor further. "No, it isn't. You're not my Dad, Viktor. He's gone, and I never even got to know him. That isn't _my_ fault." Viktor gasped at the loaded insult, stumbling back towards the window in Yuri's room, behind where they'd been stood. 

"How dare you-I only want what's best for you, Yuri!" 

Yuri shook his head. "No, Viktor. I think you have a saviour complex." 

"No, Yuri," he responded in a childish, taunting manner, his patience wearing thin at this point. "I think you have an asshole complex." 

Yuri raised an eyebrow at him. "Wow. Creative. Where did you get that from, huh? What does that entail, exactly?" His nonchalance made the whole thing worse, somehow. Like, Yuri could get a rise out of Viktor, but not vice versa, which was frustrating as hell.

"It's where you defy everything anyone asks you to do, act generally moody, bitter, sour and angry all the time, stomp around blaming everyone else for your personal issues, start arguments constantly and try your best to get on everyone's nerves. You're the poster boy for it." 

Enraged, Yuri leapt forward with a growl and began to kick his older brother repeatedly, hissing, shouting, scratching, all of it. His anger issues really needed to be worked on, Viktor calmly observed as he stood there and let the boy attack him. "I hate you!" Yuri screeched, his eyes wild. "I HATE YOU!" 

"Oh, I know you do," Viktor deadpanned, shrugging it off. He was aware that Yuri didn't mean it, not really, so it didn't bother him all that much. 

"You think you're so _smart_ and _brave_ and _heroic_ and _amazing_ for saving me from a fire, but you're not!" Yuri taunted. "You're not, and, in fact, you're a coward! The rest of us can be around fire, but you haven't even gotten over your fear of it yet! How pathetic." Okay, that was it. He'd hit Viktor's Achilles' Heel, now. 

"You little shit!" He yelled, fed up of being patient and kind towards the teenager. He pushed his younger brother off him with a surprising amount of force. "Why would you say something so horrible to me?! You _know_ how much that night messed me up. I know you were only one when it happened, but you've heard what I was like before it happened. Much happier. Much healthier. Now look at me, huh? Too scared to assume the throne, too scared to be around fire, too scared to confront my own past and face my own future! I messed up, big time, and I can't stop re-living those mistakes. You have _no idea_ what that feels like. So, I'm sorry about you being cooped up in this palace your whole life, maybe that is my fault. But at least you're still here!"

He was full-on sobbing at that point. Yuri's eyes were wide, this time not with anger, but a mixture of fear and surprise. Out of everyone, Viktor was usually the one who had his shit together, despite his occasional tantrums. He thought that his older brother was strong, that he could handle this. It seemed as though he had been wrong. This wasn't like the older prince, in the slightest. The last time this happened, it was in front of J.J., and only because he'd aggravated him. To see him in such a state was, frankly, a little disturbing. 

"Um...Viktor?" he asked, after listening to him cry for a minute or so. "Are you alright?" 

"What do you think?!" he shot back, instantly. Yuri felt a wave of guilt consume him; he didn't mean to make Viktor cry. Not consciously, anyway. Or maybe he did. He wasn't sure. It had to be admitted that he wasn't always the nicest person to be around. Otabek didn't know what he was letting himself in for. It crossed his mind that he probably shouldn't see him that evening, not if it ended this disastrously. It was the topic that had started their conversation in the first place, and now it had devolved into, well, a mess. 

"Sorry, Viktor," he told his brother. "I didn't mean to-" 

"Yes you did," Viktor interrupted, rubbing his eyes. "At the time. Not now, perhaps, but still. You can't take back what you said, or the hurt that it caused me." 

Yuri sighed. "I didn't say that I could." 

Viktor just rolled his eyes and sniffled to himself. "Whatever." 

"I truly am sorry, you know." 

"Okay." 

Clearly, his apology wasn't going to be accepted any time soon, but he had to try, right? He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, albeit tentatively. "Viktor-" 

"Just go." The hurt and pain in his voice was raw and real, and Yuri wondered fleetingly if his older brother suffered more than he let in. Either way, his tone of voice left no room for discussion. This wasn't how he'd wanted this conversation to go-he'd simply wished to discuss his crush on Otabek with his brother, and he'd messed it up. He always did mess things up, it appeared. Oh well. With a heavy heart, he left the room, but not before he said one last thing. 

"Ohana means family. Family means-" 

"Nobody gets left behind," Viktor finished off with a small smile. They'd loved watching _Lilo and Stitch_ growing up; Viktor always saw a lot of himself in Nani, and a lot of Yuri in Lilo. He supposed Potya, Yuri's cat, could be Stitch. He supposed that Yuuri was his David Kawena, now. It was weird to think of Yuuri as part of the family, but thrilling nonetheless. Anyway, that had been their code, a way of telling other that they still cared about each other after an argument, when they were too angry to articulate their true feelings, still. 

Letting out a deep, heartfelt sigh, Yuri left the room, and Viktor couldn't help but wonder if things could have gone down differently. He could have been teasing Yuri about his crush on Otabek right this minute, but never mind that. He'd just have to move on with his life. 

Moving on wasn't something Viktor Nikiforov was particularly good at, but he'd have to try, at least. He had no other choice. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Georgi, where's my purple eyeshadow?" 

Georgi shrugged. "I don't know," he told his younger sister. That was a deliberate lie; he had taken it from her the day prior. But he wasn't about to admit that to her any time soon. 

Mila rolled her eyes. "Yes, you do. Come on. I know how much you liked that eyeshadow. Can you give it back?" 

Georgi smirked, enjoying himself now. "What's the magic word?" 

"Abra-fucking-cadabra? Geez, I don't know. I just want you to give me my make-up back," Mila huffed, her usual bubbliness giving way to irritation. Her brother was going to be the death of her one day. 

Georgi tilted his head in the most obnoxious manner possible and grinned at her. "Nope. The magic word was 'please', so you're not getting it back," he said. "Besides, I'm using it." 

Mila folded her arms across her chest. "But it's _mine,_ " she whined. 

"Sharing is caring. Besides, in Soviet Russia, you don't keep calm. Calm keeps you. It's not _your_ make-up, it's _our_ make-up," Georgi pointed out, wearing a self-satisfied smirk on his face and leaning back in his swivel chair. Mila kicked the chair, almost tipping him over, and blinked several times. 

"This isn't Soviet Russia, Georgi." 

"But it _could_ be again, one day, if the state returns to its former glory." She nudged him, then. 

"Ow!" He rubbed his arm, and scowled at her. "What was that for?" 

Mila rolled her eyes at him. "For being stupid, that's what." 

"Then you deserve a thousand nudges." Mila gritted her teeth; she'd evidently had enough of Georgi's antics, already. 

"Georgi, grow up. Seriously. Stop being an asshole. Does mother know how childishly you act? No, as a matter of fact, she doesn't, because this is a side of you she never sees. She's always comparing you and Viktor, using you as a good example. I can't imagine, for the life of me, why." 

"Right, you know what?" 

She placed her hands on her hips, her gaze intense. "What?" 

"You don't get to come in my room and insult me-" 

"But you _stole_ something from me, you criminal!" 

Georgi could only gape at her dramatics. "Criminal?" 

"Yes, that's right, you heard me properly. I said, _criminal."_ At that moment, Yuri stormed in, muttering under his breath and swearing in Russian.

"Yuri!" Georgi greeted him brightly, relieved that his sister's attention was turned away from him. "What can I possibly do for you?" 

"I need a distraction," the sixteen-year-old muttered. "And I could hear your little argument from down the hall. I had one with Viktor myself, although it was more serious than yours, no doubt." 

Mila raised a perfect eyebrow at her younger cousin. "I don't know about that one, Yurio. Stealing property from other people is pretty serious." 

_"For the last time, my name isn't Yurio!"_ Yuri barked.

Georgi and Mila ignored him, however, too caught up in their trivial bickering once again. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Your highness, are you okay? I heard shouting and crying." 

Viktor turned around and noticed a concerned-looking Yuuko stood at his door. She'd been on her lunch break when he'd had his argument with Yuri; his younger brother didn't want to discuss matters in front of her. It was understandable, he supposed, but things wouldn't have escalated the way that they did if she'd been there, he just knew it. 

He shook his head. "No, Yuuko. I'm not okay, but I will be, I promise." He wiped his sleeve across his eyes furiously. "For the last time, please refer to me as 'Viktor.'" 

Her eyes widened and shone with sympathy. "As you wish," she responded, bowing her head. "Is there anything I can do to help you, Viktor? What happened?" 

Where did he start? “We had an argument, myself and Yuri. It started off with discussing him sneaking out to the guest rooms tonight to see Otabek, and his freedom, and ended in him insulting me and insisting that he didn’t want me to save and protect him or something. He also teased me about my aversion to fire,” he explained, his words stumbling over each other in a frantic rush to come out. His distress was both obvious, and painful to see to Yuuko, as someone who cared about him deeply.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, Viktor. Is there anything I can do for you?" He just shrugged. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she considered what she could do for the young prince, and settled for giving him a hug, taking the Russian completely by surprise. After a few seconds, he hugged her back. He clearly needed comfort and security, which was exactly what he'd lacked since his parent's death, fifteen years ago. 

"Thank you, Yuuko," he whispered, meaning it. "I appreciate it." 

She brushed it off with a casual wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it, your highness," she told him, smiling. "Anything for you." 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why did you let him do something so foolish, so reckless, so impulsive?" 

Lilia rolled her eyes; she knew that Yakov would not be happy about this, but she didn't care for once. "Don't be ridiculous, Yakov," she dismissed. "The boy is happy, that's what matters." 

Yakov glared at her. "That's the issue, though, Lilia. He _isn't_ a boy anymore. Viktor is a man now. He has been for a full decade. When are you going to open your eyes up to the reality and see that? He has to make this decision for the good of our nation, not pick someone he deludedly believes himself to have fallen in love with! He's being entirely selfish and irrational, and you're letting him." 

Lilia shook her head to herself. Didn't her husband understand? Their nephew had suffered enough already. Why not let him be happy, for once? It had been torturous enough for him, spending the last fifteen years cooped up in this palace. Even though it had been for his and Yuri's own good, she couldn't help but doubt her, Nikolai, Anastasia and Yakov's collective decision to keep them in. Perhaps it had done them more harm than good, but it was too late for regrets now. 

"That's not true at all. He's suffered through trauma before. He's still recovering, so no wonder he acts in the way he does sometimes. If he wants to marry Yuuri, then why can't we let him?" 

Yakov sighed, somewhat softened. "Look. I want what's best for Viktor just as much as you do, believe me. But is this the wisest decision, when we could opt to strengthen our ties with Canada, or Kazakhstan?" 

Lilia cleared her throat, her expression conveying vague embarrassment. "Ah, right. About that," she said, "I'm afraid that there's a bit of an issue here." 

Yakov narrowed his eyes, not following what she was saying. "What do you mean by that?" 

"Unfortunately, it seems as though Otabek Altin has acted in an unbefitting manner-he rides a motorbike, for one. That's bad enough as it is. Secondly, he goes out in secret and DJs at illegal night clubs. It's believed he has also shoplifted on multiple occasions, before, and has defaced public statues of, uh, controversial leaders." Upon hearing this, Yakov turned an ugly shade of beetroot. He shook his fist angrily. 

"What a scoundrel!" 

Lilia nodded, tight-lipped. "Indeed." 

"To think, we've let him into our home, as well. What a disgrace! What should we do with him?" 

Lilia contemplated this for a few seconds. "Kicking him out reflects badly on us and our hospitality, despite what people might say about us having him here. He is our guest, at the end of the day, and we must treat him as such. However, we should probably release a statement to the press regarding the situation." 

Yakov nodded at his wife. "You're right, I suppose. I'll get onto that. Anyway, what's wrong with Prince Jean-Jacques Leroy?" 

Lilia just stared at him for a few seconds. "Have you seen him? He's arrogant and egotistical through and through, and he was disrespectful towards Vitya about Aleksander and Nikita." 

Yakov seemed somewhat surprised by this. "He was?" 

"Yes. That's why he came out of that date so worked up, like he told us. It wasn't a random panic attack, after all. Whatever Prince Jean-Jacques had said to him, had triggered it. Also, he told me that it was _his_ fault that Aleksander had died that night." 

Yakov's jaw dropped, and he turned even more pink than usual. "He blames himself. But it wasn't his fault, it couldn't be helped! I bought that goddamn tent, you paid for it, Mother suggested the trip, Father approved it, those guards got drunk, Aleksander shouldn't have been smoking, Nikita should have installed a fire alarm, that old nanny of theirs should have been present...out of all the people you could possibly blame, he is not one of them. And he was strong and brave and heroic for dealing with it at such a young age for one, but also for saving his younger brother." 

She nodded again. "I know. But Viktor doesn't see it the same way that we do, I am afraid. Even after all that therapy, he's still struggling with himself and battling his own difficult feelings and grief. Maybe we should let him breathe, for once." 

Yakov sighed, and that's when the Queen of Russia knew that she had won the argument against her husband. "Fine. That's understandable. He deserves happiness as much as the next person, if not more. Staying in this palace for fifteen years has been hard on all of us, I'm sure you'll agree." He paused, weighing up his next words. "Fine. We can let him marry Yuuri Katsuki. Call Queen Hiroko and King Toshiya and let them know the good news. Our nephew is to be married to the Prince of Japan, and that's all there is to it."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_The next day..._

"You did WHAT?!" 

"Shut up," Yuri hissed, scowling at his older brother in disdain. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? Someone could hear us. Keep your voice down." 

Viktor pushed a hand through his hair, his shock obvious. "I just can't believe it. You snuck out of your room to meet up with Otabek?" 

Yuri nodded. "Yep, that's right. That's what happened last night." 

Viktor's eyes practically popped out of his head. "But how? How did you get past the guards and the security cameras?" 

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Have you never watched any action movies before, Vitya? I baked them cookies with mashed up sleeping pills in them. Their fault for trusting me, really. As for the security cameras, I'm good with technology. I managed to short-circuit them." Security cameras could be found in the corridors and outside the rooms, but never inside them unless specifically instructed (for moral reasons, allegedly). "Also, I checked everywhere from hidden microphones, of course. I would have been dumb not to." 

Viktor gaped at his younger brother, in a state of utter disbelief and shock. Why had he gone against their backs had done this? As an act of teenage rebellion against their aunt and uncle, against their cousins, against him? Or out of genuine affection for Otabek Altin? It ward hard to tell, with Yuri. Even if you knew him as well as Viktor did, he was still hard to read most of the time. "You would be dumb to do so in the first place!" The older of the two Russian princes pointed out. 

Yuri scoffed and shook his head. "Not really, no. You always told me to follow my heart, right?" 

That was a good point, to be fair. "Well, yes, but-" 

"Then, what's the problem?" Yuri asked, his head cocked to the side in utter defiance and glee. 

Viktor crossed his arms, and that's when Yuri knew that his older brother meant business. "The problem is, that you went out after curfew, an act of blatant and deliberate disrespect towards the adults in your life." 

"You all think that you're superior to me just because you are all adults, and I am not! It really isn't fair!" Yuri whined, being his usual immature and petulant self. He hadn't expected anything other than that. 

"You know who else is an adult?" Viktor asked Yuri, frowning at him. "Otabek Altin. And you ran off to do, well, God knows what, with him. At just sixteen!" 

Yuri blushed at the implication. "So what? I didn't do _that,_ but would it matter terribly if I did? I am the age of consent, after all." That much was true; the age of consent in Russia was sixteen, but that didn't make it any more right, did it? 

"Yuri." Viktor's voice was stern, now. "What exactly did you do with Otabek last night?" 

Yuri rolled his eyes again. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Viktor. Nothing like that. I confessed to him that I had a crush on him, that I would like to get to know him better, and he told me that he felt the same way about me." Viktor's guard came down a little as he noticed the sparkle in Yuri's viridian eyes, the excitement in his voice. "We climbed up the roof, and he helped me up, holding my hand and we looked up at the stars and kissed. It was fun. Really fun. Not that I'd expect you to understand what that means. I've been trapped like a bird this whole time, and now I'm finally free, whenever I'm with him." His intentions seemed pure enough, Viktor observed, but you never knew with enigmatic people like him.

"You seem happy," he conceded reluctantly. Yuri went to butt in. Viktor placed a slender finger into the air to stop him. "Which I'm glad about, don't get me wrong. I am fully supportive of your relationship with Altin, as I've stated before. Even if he is a bit old for you. I know how important entering a relationship you know you're going to be happy in. I don't want to stop you from doing what you like with your life, Yurio. Just, be careful, okay?" 

Yuri nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thanks." 

"It's no problem," Viktor responded, with a weary smile. "Truce?" he suggested, holding his arms out. 

"Truce," Yuri agreed, hugging him tightly. That boy was young, Viktor was forced to remind himself, and needed warmth and comfort in life. 

"When are you next planning to sneak out and see Otabek?" Viktor asked, genuinely curious. He would never betray Yuri's trust by deliberately telling either Yakov or Lilia. 

"Tonight, hopefully," Yuri responded, his fingers crossed. That was the operative word- _hopefully._

"Boys!" Lilia shouted, pushing the door to Viktor's bedroom open all of a sudden, with a face like thunder. "What is the meaning of this?" 

_Shit._

They both had some explaining to do, and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoyed it! Expect 2-3 more chapter updates this weekend! Have an amazing day. I'd appreciate literally any comments whatsoever :)))

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this, I seriously appreciate it! Your support means the world to me. I intend to update the next chapter soon, so chapter two will come out today, but chapter three will be out on Friday, hopefully, if not a little sooner. Fingers crossed! Feedback really brightens up my day, so any comments would be appreciated. Thank you! 
> 
> Have a wonderful day! Xx


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